


The House of the Rising Sun

by Starkspectacular



Series: Smoke and Pistols [2]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Animal Death, Arthur is bad at words, Blood and Injury, Blow Jobs, Clothed Sex, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Emotions, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Gentle Kissing, Gentle Sex, Gun Violence, Heavy Petting, High/Medium Honor Arthur Morgan, Mentions of Rape, Morning Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, No beta we die like Outlaws, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Prostitution, Pining, Protective Arthur, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Touch-Starved Arthur Morgan, Very Mild Dub Con, Violence, injury detail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:15:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 38
Words: 100,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21653605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starkspectacular/pseuds/Starkspectacular
Summary: When her home is burned to the ground by O'Driscoll raiders, Riley Jameson is set on having her revenge for the deaths of her family. Ten years after the tragic fire she encounters the Van Der Linde gang on their way to Horseshoe overlook. After a failed robbery attempt on the lagging stagecoach, Riley finds herself tied to a tree next to her worst enemy. A god damn O'Driscoll.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character(s), Arthur Morgan/Riley Jameson
Series: Smoke and Pistols [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1662112
Comments: 176
Kudos: 230





	1. Arsonist's Lullaby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Arsonist's lullaby by Hosier -
> 
> 'All you have is your fire  
> And the place you need to reach  
> Don't you ever tame your demons  
> But always keep 'em on a leash'

_Flames rise from the old, worn down ranch house whilst the moon slowly climbs into the sky. She’s full tonight, and her silver light makes everything brighter. The flames are licking up the side of the wooden house; smoke pouring from the upstairs windows that have already exploded from the pressure. Distantly the horses can be heard neighing wildly, spooked beyond calming as the fire engulfs their barn too. A gunshot echoes behind the house and laughter pierces the air as the sound of galloping gets closer and closer to where she hid. On the old beaten pathway from the ranch archway up to the home, O’Driscolls are pounding their way up and down the track, searching the bushes._

It was midnight when the knock at the door came, along with jeering sounds from the men behind it. Riley Jameson awoke groggily and slipped out of bed to her window. One glance down said all that needed to be said. She knew these men meant trouble. At 18 she was the middle child of her father who had sadly passed away when she was just 13, but she still lived with her mother and two brothers. She could handle a gun well and was already pulling on her boots and grabbing her father’s old rifle from under her bed when her door burst open. It was Adrian, her older brother, frantically pulling her out of the bedroom.

In the hallway, she met her other brother, Adam, who had his arm around their mother. She was sick, frail in her illness and age, and as Adrian frantically ran from one room to the next grabbing items and throwing them into a satchel, Riley slowly came to the realisation of what was happening.

“Do as I say, and don’t make a sound.” He whispered to Adam, shoving him down the steps as he cocked his own shotgun. “They’re O’Driscolls. I met them in Strawberry a few days ago. Bad fellers, they think our father owes them a debt.”

Riley’s breath hitched, and she took the satchel that was thrust in her direction. “Adrian-“ She began, but he cut her off.

“No- No, this- This mess is something we can’t come back from. I heard stories and-“ Just as he was whispering his explanation, the door was banged again. It sounded as though they were trying to break in, and Riley could see light from what she thought were lanterns. Thankfully the door was locked by a huge sliding piece of wood that their father had built when he first built the ranch. It may give them some time.

“You have to go. Run to the barn, get a horse, and go.” Adrian said, sternly. He was only 21, yet everything about him reminded her of their father. She shook her head and went to speak again.

“No.” Her mother said before she could utter a word. “I’ll handle them. My loves, run. Get away from here.” She said, voice cracking as she placed a hand on Adrian’s cheek. “Save yourselves whilst you still can.”

Riley had no idea what was happening, but from the snippets of information, she was given she knew it was nothing good. Adam looked like he may be violently ill at any moment, his face as pale as snow and his hands shaking. He was only 16, still just a boy, and it was then that she resolved to get him out safely.

She hitched up her nightgown and properly secured the satchel before grabbing her younger brother’s arm and dragging him to the back of the house. She could distantly hear her brother and mother arguing about who was staying when the door flew open and men began piling into the house. She hid herself and her brother against the wall, flattening herself to hide in the shadows. She could hear voices, mirthless and cruel.

“So Mrs Jameson,” The voice said, “I think you know why we’re here.”

Riley nudged her way to the door, slowly pushing it open with her entire palm flat against the wood.

“I will be honest, I have no idea.” Her mother retorted, and she could tell that she was buying for time for her children to escape. Adrian may still have a chance, but she couldn’t see him. Slowly she backed out of the door, her hands in a vice-like grip on her brother’s arm.

“N’aw, see… I think you do. That husband o’ yours? He borrowed some money from one of my boys a few months back and now it’s time to collect.” That same voice said, almost matter-of-factly.

“My husband has been dead for the past five years, I fear you have the wrong house.” Her mother protested, voice still calm and collected despite the circumstances.

This seemed to anger the man because before she could blink there was a slapping sound and a gunshot, followed swiftly by a second gunshot and a thud. Her mother let out a sob, and something twisted in Riley’s chest, but she couldn’t dwell. Not right now.

“You b-bastards!” Her mother yelled, and that was quickly followed by a second gunshot. Her hand twitched on her gun, and she heard Adam give a pained, animalistic sound. The O’Driscolls must have heard him because the next thing she knew there were footsteps.

“Search the house, you know the drill. We know they got a pretty little daughter so find her and bring her t’me.” That same voice instructed. Boots hastily made their way to the back of the house and Riley dragged her brother towards the barn. They hid, but boots could be heard in the barn as well. “Adam.” She whispered, urgently.

The horses were in a state, neighing frantically as strange men taunted them and began leading them out. There was no escape on horseback; there was no escape at all. She had to think and come up with a plan.

“Split up, hide behind those rocks over there, try and get away when you can. Find me in Strawberry.” She urgently shoved him in the direction of the rocks, just south of the entrance of the homestead, and made her way quietly through the trees of the forest just at the back of her home. She’d decided she’d try and distract them, so the further away she was the better her brother’s chances of escape.

Once at the base of a tall oak, she found a stick and snapped it loudly across her knee before scarpering up the tree like a squirrel. She tore up her hands going up, but eventually, she sat firmly in the branches of the tree as a few of the men began racing towards the sound. It had worked, she only hoped Adam would use the opportunity to run. Distantly she heard the boom of an explosion, and the house was up in flames and O’Driscoll men laughed and cheered.

She stayed absolutely still, crouched in the trees as the horses galloping near her stopped and men began trudging through the undergrowth.

“…Definitely heard somethin’ over here…” A voice said, young and full of enthusiasm. They searched the bushes, even clicking their tongues and whistling shortly as if they were calling a dog. She stayed still; sweat pouring down her back from the sheer heat of the fire. Her heart hammered, and she wondered how they couldn’t hear it directly above them.

“Goddammit, she ain’t here!” The words drifted up to her, loud over the roaring of the fire.

“She can’t run too far, we’ll get her yet.” Came another voice, a man’s voice far gruffer than before. She looked down, watching those two men and committing their faces to memory. The sheriff would need an accurate description once she and her brother reached the town.

A distant shout from the ranch had her head twisting to see what the commotion was. The men below her bolted towards the house, and that’s when she heard the whooping and hollering. From where she was squatting on the branch she could see the O’Driscols had set fire to the barn as well, their horses now stolen. The sheep were either slaughtered or running, and her chickens were much the same. In the middle of the dirt path, she could see a group of those men, the men that had come in the middle of the night and set fire to her home. The men who claimed her father owed a debt, but didn’t seem to like the fact that their father had been dead for some time. One of them, a man with dirty blonde hair, was boasting about killing Adrian and her mother. Claimed they were easy, and that he didn’t even need the men around him for this job.

It was nearly a full ten seconds before she could see what they were circling, and the sight sent her blood cold.

They dragged her beaten brother out of the bushes from behind the house. They were yelling something at him, but she couldn’t hear a damn thing over the pounding of blood in her ears. The fire was too loud, and the house was collapsing in on itself. All of her life burning away in an instance. Her mother, her father’s things, her brother… Her fingers twitched on the gun but her father’s voice was in her mind, telling her it was suicide and not to watch. She was helpless, one hapless farm girl up against 20 O’Driscoll outlaws. She didn’t have a hope in hell of rescuing her dear brother.

Savagely they beat him like a rabbit in a snare until he lay still on the ground, trapped within the jaws of the O’Driscolls. And just when she thought they’d done enough she heard another shot ring out. A hand came up to her mouth to stifle her sob, and she closed her eyes tightly so she didn’t have to see the way her brother laid unmoving.

Ice flowed down her spine, though the heat from the fire had scorched her skin. She stayed where she was for as long as her thighs would let her, even after the gang had disappeared into the night. The fire had died down and dawn was edging over the mountains to greet the day.

Hours later, after the shock had subsided, Riley stiffly climbed down from the tree and stumbled to the wreckage of her childhood home. She passed by her brother and felt sick to her stomach seeing him battered and shot. He was her little brother and to them, nothing more than a plaything to chew up and spit out. Trudging to the front door, she could see two bodies lay in close proximity to each other, almost touching, and charred beyond all recognition. Her chest ached, and she dropped to her knees in front of the house, her family scattered around her like rag dolls. The satchel dropped to the ground, as did her gun, and along with the embers of her home her soul was extinguished.

She would see these men again, and when the time came she would be holding a gun to that disgusting man’s head. And she will pull the trigger gladly and send him on his way to the depths of hell he crawled from.


	2. Ain't no rest for the wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Ain't no rest for the wicked by Cage The Elephant - 
> 
> 'Oh no there ain't no rest for the wicked  
> Until we close our eyes for good'

_We grabbed one of his boys. Poor bastard ain't spoken yet but he will once we freeze him a little, then set Bill on him. Been a bad few weeks, but we’re mostly still alive._

_Dutch being Dutch is busy making plans and figuring out just how we’re going to survive. And Dutch being Dutch, those plans involve robbery and dreams._

* * *

“We still headin’ the right way?” Arthur asked the older man beside him, casting him a sideways glance sceptically.

“That depends,” Hosea replied, “Are we still headed west in search of fortune and repose in Virgin Forests as we planned? No. Are we headed in the correct direction on our desperate escape from the law Eastwards down the mountains? Yes, I believe so.”

From behind them, a dark-skinned man piped up. “You know this area?” Charles asked.

“A little,” Hosea responded, eyes watching the forest surrounding them and the fast-flowing river to their right. “I’ve been through a couple of times. There’s a livestock town not too far from here, called Valentine. Cowboys, outlaws, working girls. Our kind of place.”

“O’Driscolls?” Arthur asked, even more sceptically than before. He held tightly onto the reigns, almost entirely focused on his task of driving the last stage of the Caravan.

“Probably them too,” Hosea said with a small shrug.

“Pinkerton's…?” Arthur asked, this time diverting his attention to Hosea to give him a worried look. He didn’t usually look so outwardly worried in front of the gang but seeing as it was just Charles and Hosea, two men he trusted more than himself, it was okay.

“Let’s hope not.” Was all Hosea responded with.

The men conversed for a short while as they rode on, and Arthur took in the time to enjoy the scenery. With the hectic few weeks they’d had he hadn’t done much sketching in his journal, so he figured now would be a great time to try and get a picture in his memory for later on when the camp was set up. They rode on past the river and along hills and between forests, before eventually coming to a road between two tall canyon walls. The horses continued onwards, and so did the men, commenting as they drove about the disaster that was the Blackwater Ferry Job.

“I figure we musta’ got it right a helluva lot more than we got it wr-“ Arthur was cut off by the sound of a gunshot ringing through the air. His hat flew backwards just as Charles hit the deck of the stage. Hosea threw himself to the side to crouch beside the wheel, and the horses began to whinny from fright. As soon as he realised he was still alive, Arthur leapt off the stage, drew his gun, and raised it to the approaching man on a horse.

“Hold it right there!” He yelled. He sounded younger, maybe in his 20’s, but his posture and the way he sat on his horse with that worn rifle tucked into his shoulder told Arthur that he knew exactly what he was doing.

“This a robbery! Don’t try anythin’, put your god damn guns down and come forward with your hands up!” The man yelled, and Arthur cast a glance to Hosea to see what his plan was. He was wiser, and whilst Arthur would have sooner fell straight into a gunfight without hesitation he knew Hosea would have some kind of trick up his sleeve. He was, after all, a master conman.

“Sir, we don’t happen to have anything of value with us! Just furniture for delivery in Valentine, nothing worth stealing.” He said, stepping forward with his hands up and a confident air about him.

“I don’t believe you. Look up there, see the two guns up on the canyon sides? Left and right, I got men up there ready to fuck you two up any second. You move, they shoot. Got it?” The man practically growled, and Arthur’s eyes followed to where he had gestured. Even whilst pointing out the guns up on the canyon sides, he hadn’t taken his eyes off of Arthur or Hosea. Smart move, once glance away and he’d probably be dead. But then again, so would they. Arthur couldn’t see well but he could just make out the shape of two men, and the glimmer of two scopes that were pointed in their direction. Well… Shit.

Hosea had seen them too and Arthur could practically hear the cogs working in the old man’s brain to think of a way out of this. He was still thinking, and blabbering a distracting tale of them being ‘Simple Cargo Men’ whilst the masked man jumped down from his horse. He was shorter than Arthur, wore a hat over his eyes and a thick bandana over his face. His gun was still trained on them as he moved to the back of the stage to rummage through their things. Arthur turned to watch the man carefully, watching for any sign of weakness, any slip, any glance away that meant he could draw his gun. But his mind was on those snipers, and he couldn’t think of a way around it. And dammit, where the hell was Charles?

In the kerfuffle, Charles had managed to slip away behind the trees, and Arthur was certain he’d listened to the conversation. He was probably making his way up the canyon side now, ready to silently put a knife into the lung of the gunner on that side. Arthur waited for the signal, fingers twitching in the air by his head, itching to reach for the gun he’d been forced to holster.

The bandit was rummaging now, pocketing food and ammunition without so much as a second glance at what his hands fell upon. His coat had many pockets, and he wore a satchel on his left side that had more room to fill. Fucker would bleed them dry next of what little money they had on their persons.

Frustration began to grow in Arthur’s stomach when he heard a call from behind himself. It was Charles atop of the canyon wall, yelling down at them and waving his arms.

“There’s no men up here!” He yelled, holding up a clearly broken rifle and scope. “They’re just bags of sand!”

“SHIT-“ Arthur ducked as he heard a shot fire from the lone bandit. They’d been god damn tricked! He ducked for cover in front of the wagon, growling curses as another shot was fired and suddenly stopped. The next thing he knew, as he and Hosea were firing a shot at the man, he was on his horse and running in the direction they’d just come from.

Arthur was up in an instant, whistling for his own horse that had been trotting behind them obediently. He was still a new horse but thankfully he came as called, and Arthur mounted him swiftly.

“Don’t kill him, Arthur!” Hosea called, “I wanna talk to him!” And Arthur was off like a bullet from a gun, galloping after this bandit without a second thought.

They twisted and turned through trees and shrubs, branches slapping them both as they raced to escape and to capture. From his saddle, Arthur grabbed his rope and began to get into position to throw a lasso. Not quite right, he thought, not yet…

They broke through the trees after a few minutes of darting through the trees, and Arthur could see the rider panicking now. He was edging his horse on and shooting haphazardly behind himself. His shots were too wild, and none of them hit, not even close. He readied the lasso, raised it above his head, and began spinning. It whirled through the air with a sharp sound and hit its target.

The rope constricted like a snake around the bandit, throwing him backwards off his horse where he landed painfully on his back. Arthur slowed his horse down with a few quick words and hopped off, keeping his end of the rope tight as he walked up to the bandit and began to hogtie him.

“FUCKER! LET ME-“

“Enough outta you!” He said, before punching the man in the face to knock him out. Finally, some goddamn peace.

Arthur looted the man’s person and satchel, taking back what he rightfully stole in the first place. He pocketed the food and ammunition and went to retrieve the bandit’s horse as well. Once he’d calmed the stallion and roped him to his own horse, Arthur went back to his captive and picked him up ready to stow him on the back of his mare. The criminal’s hat fell off in the process, and Arthur ignored it in favour of hefting him onto his horse. He stepped back and turned to get a closer look at him.

“Aw…. Shit.” He muttered, rubbing at his stubbled chin.

On the horse in front of him was a woman dressed in men’s closes, her long dark hair plaited. Her hair must have been settled under the hat, and the bandana had hidden her features well enough for Arthur and even Hosea to be tricked into believing she was a he. Arthur grimaced, and picked up her fallen hat to attach it to her horse, and began the ride back to the stage with new thoughts on his mind and a bloodied woman on the back of his horse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading! Comments are welcome, please tell me what you think Riley's gonna deal with now she's been captured?


	3. Horseshoe Overlook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riley's thrown into the camp of lawless men, but what she finds isn't the usual rough and rumble gang of bandits she's used to.  
> \- The River by Blues Saraceno - 
> 
> 'Oh my Lord take this hand  
> Save me from the gallows  
> Hear this news, bear my gold  
> Lay me in the shallows'

Riley awoke to the harsh sting of pain in her nose, and the uncomfortable sensation of blood drying on her skin. She grunted and tried to lift a hand to touch her face but was met with resistance from rope around her wrists. She opened her eyes and found herself on the ground, hogtied in the mud beside a horse. She could hear chatter and the sound of a fire, and for an second she felt something in her chest freeze. Her eyes adjusted to the sunlight filtering through the trees and she came to the conclusion she was in some kind of camp. Shit.

She couldn’t see much on the ground but what she could see were several hitching posts and quite a few horses. To her left she could see wagons and old stage coaches parked in almost a semi-circle. There was a small fire behind them somewhere, but not nearly as big as the main fire in the centre of the camp. Some tents had been set up already, and a small wagon for meal making. If she concentrated she could make out the sound of a knife chopping through vegetables, and the birds in the trees above them. There were men gathered in a tent in front of her, and she had to almost press her cheek into the dirt to get a better look at them. It was mostly coming back now. The failed robbery, the failed escape, and then the fist to the face. Well, she had it coming, fair game. She hadn’t been fast enough, but the plan had been a good one.

Riley wriggled on the ground a little to see what leverage she had in the ropes and found none. Not even a centimetre of slack. Whoever had got her had practice, that’s for damn sure.

“… And then we brought her back here. I, for one, want to speak with her when she wakes up. She had us all fooled, it’s been quite a while since I have genuinely been hoodwinked.” A man was laughing, an almost cough-sore throaty laugh. Squinting her eyes Riley could make out that it was one of the men she’d tried to rob earlier, the one with the white-grey hair and gentle eyes. He hadn’t stopped talking whilst she was trying to rob them, almost like he was stalling for time or thinking up a plan to get out of it. Riley figured he was a conman and an experienced one at that. He didn’t even seem scared when her gun was directed at him.

To his right stood a man with a black bowler hat on and a thick cigar in his mouth. He puffed it languidly, scratching at the neatly trimmed black beard on his chin. He must have been their leader, he had a certain air about him that commanded respect and authority. His eyes met hers, and she cooled her expression into a perfect poker face. A poker face covered in mud, blood, and probably horse shit.

“Well, look’s like she’s awake now, Hosea.” The man said, and his voice matched his posture of authority. “But I don’t like discussions of this nature before supper. Bill, put her with the O’Driscoll.”

One man began making his way towards her. He was tall and broad, but his checker shirt didn’t quite cover the fact that he had a stomach full of beer. He stopped in front of her and hooked his hands under her arms, hauling her up off the ground quickly. She grunted, and felt a familiar ice-cold feeling run down her back as she processed what was happening.

“C’mere, missy.” Bill said, cutting through the rope at her feet and giving her a shove to force her to walk. She stumbled, and felt cold air rush over her cheeks and injured nose. When she didn’t take another step forward she felt that man’s hands on her shoulders, pushing her forwards towards several trees where she could see a man tied to the trunk. An O’Driscoll. They’d said that was an O’Driscoll.

“No. No- Don’t fucking put me anywhere near him!” Riley all but growled, digging her heels into the ground to make it difficult to push her anywhere.

“God damn- C’mon girl get over- Hey!” Bill complained as he shoved at her, and eventually began to loose his patience because the next thing Riley knew his arms were around her middle and he’d lifted her clear off the ground. She yelped, and heard a couple of men laughing from around the fireplace in the camp.

Frustrated, Riley threw her head backwards and felt a sharp pain shoot through her skull. She’d cracked her head back against Bill’s face which gave a sickening crunch, and with a howl of pain he dropped her to the ground. She scrambled to her feet but felt a rush of hands on her arms and sides. Two more men had rushed forwards to help. One of them was the dark-skinned man from the robbery, the other was a Mexican man wearing a sly grin. She struggled against them, frustrated once again as she was dragged over to that tree near to the O’Driscoll.

She could see him now she was being held in place. He looked like a child, maybe no more than 25 years old. He looked tired, dirty, and hungry, and somewhere in the back of her mind in a place not dominated by anger and hatred for his kind, she wondered what the hell they’d done to him.

“Javier, you secure the rope, I have her.” The man in front of her said. He had his sturdy hands on her forearms to keep her from moving and was watching her like a hawk. The other man, Javier, began spinning rope around the tree, and as soon as she was unable to move she let her head fall back onto the trunk of the tree and her eyes scan over her new surroundings. Her head ached from the scuffle with Bill, and it was beginning to settle into a dull pain in the back of her head.

The camp looked cosy from this angle, almost inviting with its many tents and bedrolls set up. A few scout fires were dotted around the perimeter, and she could see a tent in the centre of the camp that looked a lot fancier than the others. It had an entrance, basically. All the others were just tarps attached to the wagons.

That man from before, the man with the cigar, was making his way across the camp towards her with a smile on his face. Hosea stood beside him, an almost similar and prideful grin on his lips. She eyed the men suspiciously yet had managed to bring back that same bloody and muddy poker face from before. She’d learned the best thing to do in this scenario was to be quiet. Words get you killed.

“Well, you somehow managed to singlehandedly rob three of my best men, almost get away with it, and break Bill Williamson’s nose whilst tied up. Colour me impressed.” The smoking man said, tapping ash onto the ground at his boots. “You were right, Hosea. I think we should talk to this one. Maybe when she’s calmed down a bit. Like I said… I prefer to have discussions of this nature after supper.”

“I told you I had a feeling about this one, Dutch.” Hosea said, happily.

Riley’s stomach did a flip. Were these men discussing her future right in front of her whilst she was tied to a tree, chest heaving for breaths and covered in blood and mud? They talked like she was cattle, and she had a sick feeling in her stomach as she realised what could be happening.

She’d fallen right into the arms of a bandit camp full of men. No, not just men; outlaws. Men like her, without morals or a care in the world for the rules. She’d met men like them before and had barely survived, and now it seemed like maybe there wasn’t a way out.

They were walking away from her now, discussing something under their breaths. Riley closed her eyes, and began taking short and sharp breaths to focus herself. She needed a plan, she needed-

“They ain’t gonna hurt you.” A weak voice said, beside her. She frowned and turned her head, about as much movement as she was allowed, towards the voice. It was that boy, that so-called O’Driscoll. She pulled a sour face and scoffed, but took the opportunity to get a better look at him. He sounded even younger than he looked, but his eyes were old.

“They got me a few weeks back, an’ I ain’t dead yet. Hardly touched me, either… I’m not- I’m not an O’Driscoll, Miss. I ran with them for a couple months but I ain’t like them. I ain’t nothin’ like them.” His voice was low, quiet and timid. It suddenly hit Riley that he was trying to comfort her. She squinted at him as if to figure him out, and eventually turned her gaze back to the camp.

“I have history with O’Driscolls. Unpleasant history.” She said, and she left it at that.

The boy gave an audible gulp and shut himself up. As much as she appreciated the gesture, she was hard-pressed to trust anyone with the name O’Driscoll.

The sun was setting by the time a wagon came rolling into the camp pulled by two shire horses. From where she was tied to the tree she could only catch a glimpse of who was driving, but she heard the gang of girls that were travelling on it. From the sounds of it they were moving boxes of supplies. Riley could hear the clank and clatter of bottles as they were lifted off the wagon. It was paired with the chatter of the girls who finally came into her line of sight, albeit on the other side of the camp.

They laughed with each other and joked with the men who immediately offered to help in unloading. One of the men was the driver. After he hitched up the horses and gave them a gentle pat each, he came around to the back of the wagon to help unload. He carried the heavier boxes, taking them without so much struggle over to the food wagon or elsewhere. He wore an old hat on his head and a well-loved leather jacket on his back. Once he was finished unloading he pulled off his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow. It was the same man from before, the one who’d chased her from the scene of the robbery and had lassoed her like a professional. He was also the one who gave her a bloody nose, damn it. He didn’t seem to notice her as he stalked off to a separate tent where he dropped his jacket and sat down heavily onto a cot. He pulled out of his satchel a leather-bound journal, flipped it open, and began writing in earnest.

She watched him carefully, and after five or ten minutes of watching she came to the conclusion that these men probably weren’t going to hurt her like she’d thought. She’d met those types of men before, and they didn’t unload wagons for girls or laugh with them or make them giggle. Those sorts of men took what they wanted, when they wanted, and damn the consequences.

Riley watched as the stew was prepared and members of the camp gathered around the fire to eat and talk. She watched as the men shared shifts with some of the girls guarding the camp, handing over rifles casually. She could see Dutch in his tent reading a book, and Hosea mixing something together in a bowl. There was that man from before, Javier, strumming a guitar by the firelight as someone sang a rude tune and passed around a bottle.

The man with the journal didn’t get up for his share of food until mostly everyone else had eaten. He grabbed a bowl and sat down with his campmates by the fire, talking quietly with a young girl beside him who happily talked back. At one moment during his meal, he did look up and their eyes locked for a moment. It was only a second, but Riley looked away as quickly as she could.

This camp wasn’t like something she’d seen before, it was obvious they all worked together like a well-oiled machine. Different, but so familiar. _That’s it_ , she thought, _they were a family_.

An hour or so after sunset Dutch and Hosea both came back to where she had been restrained. Her hands and legs were numb, but she’d managed to shimmy down the tree enough to sit on the ground and try to retain some warmth. She looked up at the two men who stared down at her with curiosity in their eyes and waited, trying her best to quell the noises her stomach made from hunger.

“I think we’re ready for that talk now, Miss.” Hosea said, tipping his hat forwards. “We have some questions we’d like to ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think? How'd you reckon everyone's gonna react to a new gang member?


	4. Under the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riley's first day in camp and a well earned rest for Arthur.
> 
> \- Under the Sun by Jace Everett -
> 
> 'The plan had some flaws  
> I did not count the cost  
> Now I'm doing hard time, lost my mind  
> Out here under the sun'

_I didn’t feel too good about that girl I brought to camp today, but she seems to me like she’s hard as goddamn nails and twice as tough. There she is all tied to the tree and covered in shit and blood, kind of reminds me of Sean a little. Maybe that’s an insult, but she’s got spirit._

_I heard from Javier that she nearly knocked Bill out when he was moving her. Wish I could have seen that._

* * *

Arthur closed his journal and stood up from his cot to stretch out his arms and legs. It was late and most of the camp was already asleep, except for Uncle who was drunkenly rooting through the chuck wagon for leftovers. Arthur sighed and shook his head, deciding that maybe a good nights rest was needed after the day he’d had. Hauling camp from one place to the next was no easy task, and going by Miss Grimshaw’s orders was even more difficult. That woman ran a damn tight ship and Arthur had learned years ago not to cross her. So, like a good little Cowboy, he hauled boxes and tables around the open clearing until Miss Grimshaw was happy, and then obediently took the girls into town when asked to pick up a few essentials for the camp.

It was getting late by the time he’d come back and he’d been too preoccupied with work to bother thinking about their new detainee. When he did find himself with a moments peace he was sat on his cot with his journal open, sketching the new camp lazily, throwing details here and there for him to work on later. He’d cast a few looks her way whilst drawing, and took her in without much thought.

She was a slim build girl with dark hair that was slung into that messy plait over her shoulder. Her face was covered in mud and blood, but underneath was sun kissed pale. She had dull green eyes and scars on her skin, and a frown set on her forehead as she took in the camp. They didn’t have a name yet, so for now she was just ‘The Girl’.

Arthur scratched at his beard, and eventually went to grab himself some of the stew before Uncle or Bill took to licking the bottom of the barrel for what was left. He sat down beside Tilly and spoke with her quietly, mostly to see how the girls felt about this new woman. Not much of a consensus yet, it seemed, but Tilly was happy to tell him about the plants she’d seen around the back of camp and how they may be useful. Arthur listened for the most part but did find his eyes wandering back to the captive. Her eyes were on him, but not for long. She was looking elsewhere in the blink of an eye. It was some time later that Dutch and Hosea came to get her.

Arthur knew this game; he’d heard Hosea singing her praises when he’d lowered her to the ground off his horse. They’d already accepted her into the gang, but now came the persuading. Dutch could spend hours spinning dreams so fantastic even the goddamn president would quit and become an outlaw. With Arthur at age 13 it had been easy. With Sadie, a simple kind word and an offer of help until she was back on her feet. Lenny, similarly, was an invitation based on skill. These members of the gang, this family, were all here because of Dutch and his fantastical ideas. Arthur wondered; as he rose from the box he sat on to put his bowl back in the Chuck wagon basin, how long it would take to convince this new woman. It all depended, really, on what Dutch ‘saw in her’. Time would tell.

* * *

It had been hours since they’d taken that girl into Dutch's tent for the talk. Once or twice Hosea had come out looking for food, water and cigarettes, but aside from that and the low hum of voices Arthur didn’t see hide nor hair of the three of them. He’d finished two whole sketches in his journal by the time they came out of that tent, lanterns lit and a cigarette between Dutch’s lips. He was smiling, clearly pleased with having won over a new member of the gang.

“There’s space with Mrs Adler in the tent with the girls. Please, do make yourself at home, Miss Jameson.” Dutch said as he tapped his cigarette into ash, and retreated back into his tent.

The girl- Miss Jameson- looked cleaner now. The blood and mud was gone, and her hair hung in loose curls around her shoulders. Arthur watched from his cot as she made her way to her horse that he’d hitched next to his own. For a moment he thought she may leave, and by the look on her face maybe she thought the same. But after a seconds glance at the darkness of the path out of the camp, Miss Jameson took her bedroll down from her horse and made her way to the ladies tent. Arthur couldn’t see her anymore, but he heard a few whispers of both male and female voices before things started to settle down again.

He’d seen this play out before with Jenny, a rough and tumble girl they’d picked up almost a year before the Blackwater Tragedy. She was a sneaky thief, and a good one at that for having nearly stolen Dutch’s pocket watch right under his nose. This Miss Jameson girl- she reminded Arthur of Jenny, and that thought alone was enough to make him turn over in his cot to try and get some sleep. After what happened to that poor girl in Blackwater, Arthur couldn’t help but think of what horrors awaited his family here in the East.

Arthur awoke to the familiar sound of songbirds and wind rustling through tree leaves. He sat up in his cot and rubbed at his face, grunting as his joints cracked back into place and his consciousness came rolling back. The first thing he noticed was the morning dew on his blanket, and then the rough scratch of his beard on his palm. It wasn’t too long yet; he could leave it for now. A sound caught his attention over the sound of the songbirds. There was a thud, a crack and a grunt in quick succession of each other, then a break, and the sounds would repeat themselves. Arthur glanced around the camp to see someone at the woodcutting block chopping firewood.

Miss Jameson stood in a pair of jeans and her long sleeve shirt, and Arthur realised this may be the first time he’d seen her properly without blood, men’s clothing, or rope tying her to a tree. She was taller than he expected and strong as well. Her arms lifted that axe easily and swung down with enough force to split each log almost cleanly down the middle. Each swing came with a quiet grunt, and Arthur could see she was sweating from the chore. He considered her for a minute before grabbing his journal to document the new arrival. He sketched her outline mid swing, and began detailing without much thought. She was pretty, he thought absently, but no doubt she could handle herself. Even when Micah was back in camp Arthur thought she seemed like the kind of girl not to take his shit. That thought alone brought a smile to his lips as he finished his sketch and stood up to start his day.

First thing on the agenda- Herr Strauss had some debts he wanted collecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whatcha think? So in my playthrough, I didn't go get Micah right away because fuck Micah. He'll be along soon, so how long until Riley punches him in the dick?


	5. Snake Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally heading out of camp, Riley takes the opportunity to rob some guy and have a drink at the saloon. Maybe one or two drinks too many, in the end.
> 
> \- Snake Song by Isobel Campbell and Mark Lanegan -
> 
> 'You can't hold me  
> I'm too slippery  
> I do no sleep in  
> I get lonely  
> You can touch me  
> If you want to  
> I got poison  
> I just might bite you'

The smell of sweat was overpowering as Riley hefted a bale of hay over her shoulder. She walked with it for a few paces, taking it from behind the delivery wagon to drop it near to the horses. Once it was down she cut the strings so that it opened up nicely, and urged the horses closer to eat. Of course, she may have had a favourite in her own stallion, a large Missouri Fox Trotter named Whip, who eagerly trotted forwards to munch on the gift of breakfast. Riley gave his neck a few soft pats, smiling at him as he grunted through his food. The other horses were interested now and started to head over, so she left Whip to it and went to find the last hay bale.

Once more she hauled the bale up to her chest and began to walk it to the furthest part of the camp behind Herr Strauss’ wagon. She dropped it on the ground and again cut the strings that bound it together. First over was The Count, Dutch’s brilliantly white horse. Riley gave him a gentle pat on the neck before stating off to find her next chore.

It had been two weeks since she’d been integrated into the group of outlaws she was slowly beginning to like. Dutch and Hosea had spent hours convincing her it was in her best interests to stay, and that she’d benefit as much as they would if she were to join the gang. Admittedly, she’d been shocked that they’d even considered her as part of the gang after that robbery attempt, but it seemed that had been the cherry on the cake for Hosea. He’d asked about her plan and she gave it to him, going into detail about the four times it had worked in the past. Admittedly again those four times had been on smaller wagons with lone drivers, so it had been a hell of a lot easier to rob. Dutch had sat there with a secret smirk on his face the entire conversation, even as he told her of his plans to get the gang to another part of the world, to set up a ranch or a homestead, somewhere they were free. Riley knew she was falling for the idealisms, but somewhere in the back of her mind, she craved that lost feeling of a simpler life. She’d thought of her father the entire conversation, considering how he would have felt about her life choices. It was obvious to an extent, he wouldn’t have approved, but he would have understood that she was just trying to survive.

Survival is what Dutch did, that much Riley could see. He took in the ones nobody wanted, the men that had nowhere to go and the girls that needed a helping hand. The stories he told of past gang members sadly lost to bullets made Riley’s heartache for her fallen family, and judging by the expressions on both Dutch and Hosea’s faces they felt similarly. She had been right; these people were a family. A family willing to accept her with open arms, it seemed.

So far she’d kept mostly to herself, joining in with conversations only when she really had no other option. She preferred to keep her tongue, just whilst she figured out where she stood with the rest of the gang. There was Abigail who was one of the first girls to talk to her. She was a sweet thing, a mother to a delightful young boy named Jack. He was curious about her the moment she stepped foot in the camp but didn’t seem to be courageous enough to go speak with her himself. In fact, the closest he’d ever been to Riley was when he accidentally bumped into her whilst sprinting through the camp away from an annoyed squirrel. He’d stopped, looked up at her with big confused eyes, and immediately sprinted off into the tent he shared with his mother.

Abigail had been nice to her. Riley didn’t have many things, especially after offering the remainder of her food for the camp, but Abigail was quick to sneak her an extra apple after dark some days. They’d have quiet conversations about nothing in particular, and sometimes Mary-Beth or Karen or Tilly would join them. For the most part the girls all seemed lovely, even Karen who always had a bottle in her hand. Mary-Beth told her one evening when Karen sat alone by the fire nursing a bottle of Gin that it was because of her missing ‘friend’ Sean, and that was as much information as she’d got.

Miss Grimshaw was a stern lady with ideas well above camp practicality. She expected the girls to work their asses off to make it liveable, and they did just that but never in the correct way. Someone was always taking a break, slacking off, or doing something incorrectly. It almost always involved a telling off, so Riley quickly learned to keep herself busy and out of her warpath.

Soon enough Riley was getting into the routine of the camp. At dawn, she’d wake up to feed the horses and give them fresh water. She’d scatter seed for the chickens, then fill the basin sink on the table near the chuck wagon with fresh water. Once finished, Riley would begin chopping firewood for the day, and by the time she was usually finished the rest of the camp would be awake. The first few times she chopped wood she had Javier and Lenny come over at different times to ask if she wanted any help. She’d politely declined, but just to show them a little proof she made sure that her next swing was as perfect and clean a cut as possible. Usually, it worked, and the men knew she could handle herself after that. Everyone except Bill, that is, who seemed to have a bee in his bonnet about the whole head-butting incident. She’d apologised one evening over supper, but he’d only grunted and got up to find a bottle of beer to nurse. Maybe it was a bruised ego, so Riley thought it best to not bring it up again. He kept on avoiding her, and that was fine. You couldn’t win everyone.

Nearly everyone in camp had made the attempt to speak with her at some point or another. Charles told her stories of his father and mother, stories that had her transfixed and hanging on every word. She felt a lot younger when he spoke, and he reminded her of her eldest brother Adrian. Javier was a lot like her younger brother Adam, always quick with a joke but capable with his hands. He played the guitar beautifully, and sometimes the tunes would stick with her for days afterwards. It was nice to have something to hum whilst washing clothing in the river, it felt natural.

The one person she hardly spoke to was that very man who she wanted to speak to most. Arthur Morgan, the stoic golden son of Dutch and Hosea. Everyone in camp spoke so highly of him and told stories of his many deeds as a young man. The way they spoke about him he could have been a devilish man without a brain, the fool that caused trouble and shot his way out of it expertly. Nothing about what they said matched his actions at all. Arthur was quiet when Riley took the time to study him. He hardly started conversations but was happy to continue when other people initiated them. Sometimes he would leave the camp for days, only to return with a prize deer on the back of his horse or a pouch full of money to contribute to the box. One thing everyone in the gang could agree on, however, was that Arthur provided for his family. In the ledger, he put in more money than anyone else, and somewhere in the back of her mind Riley knew she had to contribute as well. It was time for her to leave the camp soon, explore her new surroundings a little more and see who there was to rob unsuspectingly.

It was a sunny afternoon when she approached Dutch who sat quietly reading from his book by his tent. He didn’t raise his head as she approached, but slowly puffed outwards of his cigar.

“Do you read, Miss Jameson?” Dutch asked, eyes still lovingly stapled to his book.

“I can… I don’t often, though.” Riley responded, tucking her thumbs into her belt as she rocked back on her heels.

“It’s a wondrous thing…” Dutch said, finally looking up at her. “What has brought you to my humble tent?”

“I wanted to ask for your permission to leave the camp.” Riley started, subtly biting the inside of her lip. “I’m itchin’ to contribute to the funds, I can tell we’re low on supplies and… Well I gotta get out of here before Miss Grimshaw tries to make me wash the boy’s union suits again I can’t deal with that.”

Dutch laughed, a full belly laugh that had his face splitting into a grin. Riley couldn’t help but look away and try to hide her own smile.

“Miss, you do not need permission to leave this camp. We are not in the business of slaving; you’re your own woman. You want to contribute, be my guest. We could use another gun out there, especially seeing as Uncle’s… Lumbago… seems to be getting worse.” Dutch gave Riley a small smirk and a wink before delving back into his book.

“Just remember, you contribute to the camp funds as much as you can, but don’t leave yourself dry. A person has to look after his or herself in this day and age.”

Riley hummed, happy with the conversation, and turned to leave. She nodded in his direction, and licked her dry lips as she thought on the possibilities of where she could go.

Her map was an old and torn up piece of paper she’d borrowed from Javier. It marked locations of towns and ranches around their area, as well as rivers and some paths and roads that may take her elsewhere. She located Valentine and decided to find herself a mark just off to the right by that large river. Someone, somewhere, had to be down there.

With her goal in mind, Riley saddled up. She took Whip out of the hitching station and began making her way out of camp, passing by Kieran and Mary-Beth who were both keeping watch over the entrance. She nodded to them, having buried the hatchet with Kieran the day Dutch had let him stay with the gang, and went on her merry way.

It was a relief to finally be out in the open air. The sun on her skin felt divine, and the wind in her loose hair was all she needed to be one with the world. She urged Whip on faster, riding him out of his pent up energy from three weeks of little activity other than short rides around camp. He seemed to enjoy this as much as Riley, if not more.

She passed by wagons and stage coaches on her journey North; each one a potential target for robbery. Riley did consider them, but ultimately she wanted this moment of freedom for herself. She needed that racing sensation in her blood to climb higher and higher, the adrenaline pushing her further and further until she slowed down to allow Whip to rest. He’d earned it.

“Whoa, boy…” She said softly as the river came into view. It rushed by loudly, the perfect cover for sneaking up on some unsuspecting traveller.

On her side of the river she could see a man and a small camp. He was in the river with a bucket panning for gold as his horse stood hitched to a tree some distance away. Riley felt a small smile creep up onto her lips as she guided her horse closer and let him stop a few metres away. She dropped down from the horse and stalked close to the man, pulling up her bandana over her face and pulling her pistol from its holster on her hip. She cocked it and was pleased to find the noise masked by the roaring river.

“Stick ‘em up, Cowboy.” She said in a sturdy voice, her gun aimed directly at the man. He startled, raising his hands up above his bald head as she pushed the barrel of the gun to his back.

“Shit! There ain’t nothin’ here, I promise! God damn nothin’ in this river, not even a nugget!” The man whined, but Riley had no reason to believe him. She nudged him forwards and demanded he got to his knees facing the small fire he had. She used the opportunity to rummage through his belongings and found a lock box partially hidden under his bedroll. One swift smack with the back of her pistol had the box springing open easily, and inside she found a few goodies.

“Thought you said there weren’t no gold here, partner.” She said, casually rolling the small chunk of gold between her fingers. She could see the man curse and fold inwards on himself. She smiled, and pocketed the gold, closing the box to put it back under the bedroll. She hadn’t taken everything from him, she wasn’t cruel. There was a tin of hair pomade in there she had no use for, and felt no need to take. Gotta leave the poor guy with something.

Ten minutes later Riley was back on the open road, thundering along a road back towards Valentine. She held her hat low over her face until she was clear away from the scene of the robbery, and only then did she drop the bandana from her face and push her hat back up. She felt alive.

Once in Valentine, after finding someone to secretly sell the little chunk of gold too, Riley figured she’d earned herself a drink. The saloon was lively for late afternoon, most men in there either drunk or on their way. She could see the working girls up on the stairs above her and gave them a small nod, something she’d learned garnered trust and respect amongst people like them. Stepping up to the bar she leaned forwards between two men and ordered a whiskey. The man to her left was pretty drunk, but the man on her right was-

She did a double-take and stared for a second before falling into a small, welcoming smile.

“Howdy.” She said, thanking the bartender and handing him his coin. Arthur seemed just as surprised as she was to see her there and turned to lean on the bar facing her.

“You sneakin’ outta camp now, Miss?” He asked, voice thick with a heavy accent.

“Nah, ‘course not. Asked Dutch if it were okay if I go robbin’ and he said sure. Managed to get a good forty dollars for the camp.” She may be bragging, just a little.

Arthur seemed impressed, by any rate. He gave a low whistle and raised his hand to the bartender to ask for another drink. He was handsome, that was for sure. His jaw was strong and his shoulders were broad. Riley imagined every girl in camp must have tried it on with him at some point or another, though by the sounds of it nobody had gotten close to him. She wondered why that was. A man with baby blue eyes and rugged features surely could get a woman if he’d wanted one. Riley tapped her glass on the bar and drained her glass in one, grinning as she smacked it back down.

“An’ another fer the lady.” Arthur added, studying Riley whilst she grinned at him. “I don’t think we’ve had a proper introduction, Miss. I’m Arthur. Arthur Morgan.”

“Riley Jameson. And don’t call me Miss.” She said as they accepted their new drinks and tapped them on the bar in sync. The glasses clanked back down on the wood once drained, the both of them smirking at one another. This could turn out to be one hell of an interesting gang she’d joined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I have had some questions about Arthur's TB case... You'll just have you wait and see if he gets it, that's all I'm saying. ;)


	6. When the night is over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just two friends having a good time in the saloon. That's all.
> 
> \- When the night is over by Lord Huron - 
> 
> 'I feel the weather change  
> I hear the river say your name  
> I watch the birds fly by  
> I see an emerald in the sky'

_I fear I’ve gone and made a fool of myself again. I can hear Dutch’s voice now telling me to keep my head, so that’s what I’m going to do. Focus, Morgan, and stop being a fool._

Arthur woke up with a hard pain in his head and a cold dampness in his trousers. For a split second he genuinely thought he’d pissed himself, but once he was able to peel open his eyes to the torturously blinding light of day he found himself sitting in a puddle. Grunting, Arthur sat up and rubbed at his face with the back of his muddied hand. In the distance, he could hear birds and voices, and the sounds of carts and horses rolling down the roads of Valentine. That’s right, he’d been in the Valentine saloon the night before having a few drinks with that new girl, Jameson.

Suddenly aware of the company he had kept, Arthur frowned and glanced around himself for more clues as to what had happened the night before. His hat was in his lap so he stuck it back on his head, thankful for a little shade from the bright morning sun. His guns were still in their holsters, his satchel still by his side, and his horse he could see grazing on the green grass of the hill beneath the tree he sat under. Most importantly he still had his money, though significantly less than the last time he’d checked.

‘Damn, it must have been one hell of a night.’ Arthur thought as he lifted himself up out of the puddle and did his best to brush off the mud from his pants. He grunted when his bones cracked a little in his knees, and stretched his arms out to get some relief from the stiffness. Arthur whistled for his horse and she came trotting over obediently. She was new, a simple Tennessee Walker he’d bought in Valentine a few weeks back. A little skittish but she was fast, and that’s all Arthur really wanted. She came trotting over and whinnied loudly, the sound splitting his skull like a hammer. He hushed her, and as soon as she was calm he heard a smaller sound. It was a groan, but definitely not that of a man. Arthur looked around quickly, hand in position to grab his pistol should he need it.

Another groan was accompanied by the rustling of leaves from above his head, and Arthur looked up just in time to jump backwards to escape the river of vomit that spilled from the woman in the tree.

“Christ woman! What in god’s name are you doin’ up in that tree?!” Arthur asked as Riley wiped the back of her mouth with her hand.

“Good question. Don’t know. Gonna be-“ She heaved again and Arthur stepped back again to avoid the splash of liquid vomit. Dang it, he’d gone too far again last night. What a god damn no good drunk he was.

“Well shit, Jameson, how the hell did you get up there? Get down, you fool.” Arthur sighed like a disapproving father and Riley huffed irritably at him. She’d managed to sit up and adjust herself. Her overcoat was lost somewhere, but her weapons and her satchel were still over her back. Arthur watched as she checked herself over, making sure she was in one piece before she began sliding to the trunk of the tree.

“Lookin’ like a god damn squirrel…” He muttered, but he knew he was no better; covered in mud and whiskey like he was. “Guessin’ we had a whale of a time last night… You remember much of it?”

“I can’t remember my own name right now, Arthur, ask me again in two to three days.” Riley responded as she lowered herself down from the lowest branch. She swung for a second and dropped, immediately crumpling into a heap on the ground.

Arthur went to help her up and found her laughing, her hand covering her nose and mouth as if to stifle the giggles. She was cute when she laughed, and Arthur couldn’t help the small snort he gave as he hauled her up off the ground with her hand in his.

“Yep… Definitely gonna fit in fine with the gang I reckon. What was we celebratin’ again? You got a score or somethin’?” Arthur walked back to his horse and pet her on the neck, gently rooting through the saddlebag for an oatcake to feed her. She snorted it down happily like the good mare she was.

“Uh… Yeah, think so. It’s all still here.” Riley was counting her money from her coin bag when Arthur turned back around. He watched her as she frowned whilst counting. “Yep, all there. We should get back to camp before people think I’ve gone and run off.”

Arthur smirked and shook his head as Riley whistled for her horse. He could hear him trotting over from where he was grazing somewhere behind the tree and in no time they were both saddled up and back on the trail to camp.

They rode in silence mostly, both too hungover to consider speaking much more than they had to. It felt almost awkward to Arthur, like something hung between them that he couldn’t remember. He frowned as he mulled it over, one hand clenching the reigns whilst the other tried to tame his short hair into some semblance of order. He didn’t much have a clue how it got so stuck up, but he’d woken up in worse states from a night of drinking.

Once in a while Arthur would cast his eyes to the woman beside him. She would sit on her horse like she’d done it her entire life, but Arthur could see small signs of inebriation still. She swayed from side to side and the colour of her skin was a whole lot paler than he’d ever seen it. Her eyes kept closing for longer periods of time, and she’d breathe pretty shallow when the horses hit the unlevelled ground. Arthur found himself smiling like some kind of fool, so he bit the inside of his cheek and glanced off to the countryside instead to distract his thoughts. Maybe he’d be able to bring bits and pieces back together from the night before.

_Two bottles of beer clanged together for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. Arthur was swaying in his seat and laughing like he hadn’t in a long time. The woman in front of him was telling a story that under normal circumstances wouldn’t have garnered such a reaction but tonight he was feeling good. He felt free._

The pair rode into camp quietly looking extremely sorry for themselves. Arthur hitched up his horse next to Riley’s and the second they stepped foot anywhere near the chuck wagon to see what Pearson had cooking, the banshee was upon them.

“Mr Morgan! Miss Jameson!” Came the shrill sound of Mrs Grimshaw’s voice. Arthur winced and closed his eyes for a second before almost guiltily turning around to face his certain doom. Riley did the same, though he could see her backing up inch by inch, slowly moving behind him. Great, he was a goddamn shield now.

“You two are filthy! Its no wonder the law considers us reprobates and cretins. Both of you wash up now!” She grabbed hold of Arthur’s arm and began hauling him away, and much to his dismay he watched Riley sneak away like the little weasel she was. He wouldn’t say anything to Grimshaw, no man or woman deserved that fate. He’d take it like a goddamn man.

Mrs Grimshaw dragged him over to the washbasin behind the chuck wagon, and stood by with her arms folded.

“You gonna watch me like some kinda naughty child?” Arthur asked with a sigh. She huffed and nodded, so he was forced to get to work and wash himself clean.

About ten minutes later Arthur was cleaner than before. His face and hair was washed, and he’d pulled on some new clothes. He felt more human than he’d felt when he woke up that morning, but still held a dull sickness feeling in his stomach. It didn’t rightly feel like the whiskey or beer, and Arthur couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

_The bartender cut them off at around one in the morning according to the pocket watch he’d stolen from some poor unsuspecting drunkard. Arthur helped Riley out of the saloon seeing as she was so wobbly on her feet. He thought she was cute like that, all carefree and fun. Around camp she always seemed so damn serious, like a caged animal waiting for her moment to escape. How wrong he’d been, she was no feral dog, she was a goddamn Vixen._

He sheepishly handed Mrs Grimshaw some money for having supervised his wash and was finally allowed to return to his cot. He sat down heavily and rubbed at his temples with his fingers, willing himself to remember a little more of the prior night.

_“…And that is how I singlehandedly robbed a banking coach with one bullet and a fist full of sand!” Riley smacked her hand down on her own knee as she threw back another swig of whiskey from the bottle they shared. Somehow they’d found themselves sat outside of the gunsmiths, thigh to thigh and shoulder to shoulder. She sat without her overcoat and Arthur could see little goosebumps rising on her arms where her old stripe shirt was rolled up at the sleeves. His eyes followed the line of her neck as she drank the whiskey like it was nothing._

_“You’re fulla shit.” Arthur grinned, grabbing for the bottle to swig for himself. “And whiskey!”_

_Riley laughed heartily, standing up to put her hands on her hips._

_“Ain’t that all a girl needs? Whiskey and lies?” She said, attempting to walk the edge of the wooden step with her arms outstretched. Arthur huffed and raised the bottle, swigging again. He dropped it to the ground when it was empty and watched her walk like she was some kind of circus girl. He saw her foot slip, her arms flail and in a second he was up and holding onto her with his arms around her waist._

_“Woah there- I gotcha!” He slurred, unconsciously bringing her closer. She was giggling like a maniac with her arms and forehead bunched up against his chest. He could feel the vibrations of her laughter and it was infectious._

_“Hey- Arthur…” She said, raising her head up and back to get a better look at him. They were so close now, almost within the grasp of something unspoken._

_His hands flattened on her back and he could feel the heat of her through the thin shirt. He hummed in response and raised a brow. “What?”_

_Riley leaned forwards, her breath was warm against his lips and he felt the slowness of her words brush across his skin._

_“You got real purdy eyes.” She said, softly, gazing at them like she’d witnessed a miracle. Arthur felt his cheeks go red._

_Before either of them could make another move Riley was running out of his arms like a bullet from a gun. Her long hair trailed behind her as she ran for the edge of town, laughing wildly. It was then that Arthur saw his hat in her hand, and she cast her eyes back to him in an unspoken invitation to try and get it back. Not a snowballs chance in hell, he thought as he ran inelegantly after the girl. She was at the base of a spruce tree before he could bat an eyelid._


	7. Grave digger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes a little bonding with the gang is what you need to get your head out of your own ass.
> 
> \- Grave Digger by Blues Saraceno -
> 
> 'grave digger, grave digger  
> bring me to my knees  
> forget what i have done  
> forgive me if you please  
> save me if you can  
> the time for me has come  
> let me be the one that got away'

Fourty-eight hours had passed since Riley had made a total ass of herself, in front of Arthur of all people. She remembered bits of that night, like the laughter in the saloon and the drinks flowing like a waterfall. She remembered falling off a step and directly into Arthur’s arms like in one of Mary-Beth’s dime romance novels. Arthur had been warm against the length of her body, probably entirely from the drink. She remembered he smelled like sweat and whiskey, but something else that reminded her of the wind. Couldn’t quite put her finger on it though. Riley’s cheeks flushed bright red as the memory raced around her mind, so she put all of her attention and effort into the wood she was chopping.

_Swing_

_Thunk_

She had a sheen of sweat on her brow after the first two logs, and carried on with gusto as her arms ached with a plesant and familiar burn.

Arthur’s lips had been inches from her own, so close she could feel his breath fanning across her face. Not the most plesant but in her drunken state she hadn’t thought twice. And as her mouth dried up and she studied the memory of his eyes she was painfully aware of what an absolute moron he would have thought her. And then to steal his hat and run off like a child? Pathetic.

Riley swung as hard as she could towards the log and split it clean in two. The axe lodged deep into the stump she used as a base, and now gravity wasn’t her friend as she tried to yank it out. Riley growled in frustration, planting her foot on the stump to use as leverage to lift herself and the axe out. No use, it was stuck fast. Fuck.

“Need some help?” Riley whipped around to the voice, one leg still up on the stump, hands curled around the handle of the axe, staring like she’d been caught in the act of something devious.

Charles offered a small smile, hands in his pockets and strong forearms on show under rolled up sleeves.

For a moment Riley wanted to snap at him, tell him to fuck off and say she had it under control. But she didn’t, that much was obvious. She’d exhausted herself chopping wood and so released the handle to put her hands on her hips and turn away to face the cliffside. Through sweat in her eyes she squinted at the sunset, chest heaving from exhursion. From behind her she could hear the sound of Charles grunting as he wrenched the axe free and settled it down beside the stump. He paused for a moment to consider her, and eventually made his way over to stand beside her looking over the vastness of New Hanover.

“Beautiful country.” He said, arms folded across his chest. Riley merely hummed a reply, eyes looking to the distance but not seeing anything. She sighed softly and wiped her face on her rolled up sleeve.

Charles didn’t push her and she appreciated that. There wasn’t a lot she had to say but having someone silently stand by her gave her a sense of comfort. Slowly her arms wound around her own waist and she pulled her thumb up to her mouth to bite on the nail. Charles was such a patient man that it made Riley feel a little guilty for not being able to speak her mind.

“I… think I messed up.” She said after several long minutes. They were far enough away from camp that nobody could hear, but she kept her voice low regardless. “Me and Arthur… we got really drunk and…”

Charles waited for her to finish before nodding in understanding. “He’s not somebody to get involved with like that… Well, that’s what he thinks. I’ve only been running with the gang for about six or seven months now but from what I’ve seen he keeps himself to himself. If you two did fool around-“

Riley spluttered, turning to face Charles with a rush of red in her cheeks.

“It wasn’t like that!” She said quickly, and Charles fell quiet to let her speak. “It- We didn’t- Do that… I mean, I don’t think we even kissed but… there was a bit of tension there, I think? It’s fuzzy, like someones wrapped that night in a cloud.” Riley frowned and slowly returned the thumb to her mouth. Charles smiled warmly and reached out to press his hand to her shoulder.

“Y’know, there’s no animosity in the camp if you two did end up…” He trailed off, leaving it up to Riley to fill in the blanks. She huffed but didn’t move away from his grip. It gave her something to think about, and may have eased a little of her anxiety. It was only then that she really realised that most of her anxiety had been focused on whether or not the other members of the camp would hate her for it.

“I don’t want to… I don’t want to be looked at like that.” She said, softly. “I don’t want them to think that’s all I joined the gang for.”

“I don’t think that.” Charles said, shrugging. He paused, giving his words a moment to sink in before speaking again and rubbing at his own chin. “Do you want to get away from the camp for a little bit? Pearson’s complaining again about the food storage getting low. I promised I’d bring him something for the stew soon. I could use a hunter…?”

The offer hung in the air before her like bait on a hook, and Riley bit eagerly. She nodded and unfurled her arms from around her body. That’s exactly what she needed, a little distraction from her own private drama.

As she made her way to her bedroll for supplies and then to her horse to mount up, Riley didn’t notice the eyes on her from the other side of the camp. Arthur stood leaning against a tree with a cigarette in his hand and his hat low on his head. The smoke curled up around his fingers as he puffed, before stubbing it out on the ground with the heel of his boot and heading off back to his cot.

A few hours later when the camp was dark and quiet, Riley and Charles slipped back in with a whitetail deer each strapped to the backs of their horses. They propped them on the table at the chuckwagon and spoke quietly with each other for a moment, both relishing in the strange silence of the camp.

It only lasted a moment, however, before Javier came striding up to Charles with purpose in his eyes.

“We got a lead on where Sean is.” Javier said, hand on his gun belt. “Dutch wants us to go meet Trelawny in Blackwater, we need an extra gun.”

“What about Arthur?” Charles asked, dropping a rabbit pelt on the table beside the doe he’d caught.

“Meeting us there. Said he had to go tend to some business in Strawberry first.” Javier and Charles both began making their way to the horses with purpose, leaving Riley standing by the chuckwagon alone.

She wondered what sort of business Arthur had to do in Strawberry, but quickly dropped it from her mind. It wasn’t her concern, and anyhow she had to go find Pearson and let him know about the donation her and Charles had made. Charles had been a good man today in helping her get out of her own head, but now she was stuck with that old habit again of worrying over the night before. It was late, and she needed to get some rest. Dutch had said he wanted to speak with her in the morning, and she had a rough feeling in her stomach about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments give me life, lads, keep em coming :D


	8. We can't go to hell if we're already there

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur rescues Sean and Micah to keep his mind off Jameson, but in the end he's forced to work on a robbery with her at Dutch's request.
> 
> \- Can't go to hell by Sin Shake Sin - 
> 
> 'It's too early for surrender  
> Too late for a prayer  
> We can't go to hell if we're already there  
> They say the end is coming  
> And I need to prepare  
> We can't go to hell if we're already there'

_I have no idea what Dutch sees in that cowboy, Micah. He’s been running with us for months now and just don’t seem to fit in. I don’t actually think anyone in the gang likes him, save for himself. Today he damn near got me killed in Strawberry in a huge shoot out with the entire damn town. If it weren’t for Dutch I’d have shot him myself weeks ago, and now this._

_I’m no better I suppose. What a fool I am to have gotten so drunk with that hussy. No, that’s not true. I can’t say stupid things like that. It’s not uncommon for women to be disgusted by me, I should be used to that by now, but the flirting with Charles so soon after? Now that hurt. Maybe I don’t have much to say on the matter. It’s not my business._

The wind roared past him as he raced his horse down the pathway from Strawberry towards New Hanover. Arthur grabbed onto his hat to keep it firmly in place and urged Gypsy on with a quick squeeze of his knees and a rough ‘Come on!’. She picked up the pace whenever Arthur gave a quick squeeze with his thighs, but she wasn’t as fast as he needed her to be. He needed that wind to whip around his face, cool breezes to caress through his hair. She wasn’t quite getting him to where he wanted to be, but that wasn’t her fault. A while back, before John was even a part of the gang, Arthur had owned a stallion that was bigger than he was. He was an incredible horse; quick to bond with Arthur and quicker to get him away from danger. Arthur had named him Buckshot, and ironically enough it was a buckshot that killed him. A botched robbery and Arthur lost the best horse he’d ever owned.

They’d got Sean safe and sound, thankfully, away from the bounty hunters and he was now on his way back to camp with Javier. Arthur had been glad to see that Irish boy alive, though a little beaten and bruised. None of it had taught him a lesson about running his mouth apparently, Sean was always going to be like that no matter what happened. A sarcastic joker with too much personality for one kid to have.

Arthur had sustained a few injuries in the fight, not like that was anything new. His left arm burned from a bullet graze and he could feel the coolness of his blood drying against his skin. He’d ended up grappling with one of the bounty hunters at one point, both of them throwing good punches. For a moment Arthur had thought the other guy might actually win when Charles shot him dead. Another man’s blood-drenched his shirt, a brand new one he’d bought in Valentine a couple of days ago. Damn his rotten luck.

Gypsy began to lag as they raced along the bank of a long and winding river. Arthur let her slow down to a trot, eyes pinned to the mountains above them. He could see a bald eagle perched on the cliffside, his eye on the water. Arthur studied him for a moment before focusing back on the road ahead. It had been a full 24-hours since he left camp to lose himself in the mission. A whole day devoted to saving the dumb ass members of the gang he was obliged to protect. Sean wasn’t so much of an issue but Micah…

He’d shot up a whole town because of that boy, damn it. Arthur still had a bitter taste in his mouth and could practically see the blood on his hands from one man’s stupid god damn revenge mission. He’d never liked Micah, but this really did kick the mule.

Arthur rode back into camp with many thoughts on his mind. First thing’s first, he needed to get himself clean before Miss Grimshaw clocked him. There was a celebration going on now Sean was back, and Arthur could hear him making drunken toasts around the campfire. People were happy, laughing and drinking, but he didn’t quite fancy the company. Leaning his hands on the edges of the bucket, Arthur watched his family celebrate. Riley sat on a log near to Charles, her hand clasped around a bottle of beer but not once did he see her raise it to her lips. Javier was strumming his guitar, and he could hear the lyrics to a song he didn’t understand crooning from his lips. With a sigh, the cowboy focused on washing his arm clean so that he could wrap a bandage around it. That’ll do until he could see Miss Grimshaw about it.

“Arthur! Just the man I’m after.” Dutch’s unmistakable voice caused Arthur to turn his head midway through putting on a clean button-down shirt.

“Dutch.” He greeted him, leaning on the side of the wagon as he fished a cigarette out of his pocket and struck a match on the sole of his boot.

“My boy, I have a lead I need you to follow up on. See I was in town not long ago and I happened to run into a man by the name of Roderick Fletcher. He told me, after a few well-placed whiskeys, that he was a man employed under Leviticus Cornwall and that in a few days time he was to drive a coach of arms to his oil plantation just south of here. Now my good friend says that the hired guns switch between Citadel Rock and Twin Stack Pass. For a small window of time, that coach will be guarded by two men and two men only.” Dutch wound his arm around Arthur’s shoulder as he spoke, his own cigar between his fingers gesturing subtly. “I need you to get hold of that coach, Arthur. Not alone, of course not, I already got you a partner for the job. Should be fun, be ready to ride out at sun up.” Arthur nodded and mentally ran through what sort of guns he may want to take with him.

“Javier?” He asked though a small cough as Dutch began to walk back to his own tent.

“No, you’re taking Jameson. I reckon who better to take on her first high stakes robbery than my most trusted and experienced gunman.” Dutch waved Arthur off with a smile and disappeared behind his tent flap. Arthur closed his eyes and cursed, running his hand through his damp hair to push it out of his eyes. Damn it, this would be one hell of an awkward mission. That night was still raw in his mind, and Riley hadn’t spoken so much as a word to him since. He figured she must have felt terrible about the whole thing and wanted to forget it ever happened.

The morning came far too fast for his liking. Arthur rolled out of his bed and began to pack his satchel for what he may need in the day’s events. The birds whistled in the trees above them, and distantly he could hear the rush of the river. At this time in the morning the guard duty would swap, and Bill slowly slumped off to bed whilst Lenny took his rifle and moved off to the entrance of the camp. Things seemed fine, but Arthur couldn’t see Riley anywhere. He trudged over to his horse and gave her a few soft pets before checking her saddlebags for the weapons he planned on taking. Everything was set, now he just needed his accomplice. Why Dutch couldn’t have just told him to take Mary-Beth or Karen he’d never know. This sort of plan was a Dutch speciality. The lost lady in need of help, it really was a camp favourite. It got the girls out, it got the boys excited, sometimes they even got a good take out of it. But Jameson? Arthur was damn sure she was not the person to be taking on this sort of mission.

After waiting for a few minutes Arthur sighed loudly and went to find where that girl had gone off to. He checked her bedroll and found it empty aside from the core of an apple sitting next to the pillow. Arthur frowned, confused as to where she could be when he heard a short whistle from near the horses. Riley was already on her steed with a hat worn low on her face. She held a rifle in her hands, one with a long scope that looked really well cared for.

“Come on, let’s go. Take this.” She said, tossing him the gun. Arthur caught it in one hand and frowned as he approached her, keeping his voice low so as to not wake anyone in the camp.

“The hell is this for? I already got guns.” He said with a frown.

Riley rolled her eyes and shrugged. “It ain’t for keeping. Just thought you’d need an extra sight from up there on the hill.”

“What hill? I’m stickin’ close, don’t go gettin’ any ideas.”

“I don’t think so, you get anywhere near that coach lookin’ like a bandit and they’ll shoot first ask questions later.”

Arthur bit his tongue and sighed, sliding the rifle over his shoulder. He didn’t want to argue with her.

“Fine.” He bristled, a frown etching its way onto his brow.

Arthur mounted his horse and gently urged her out of camp with Riley in tow. For the most part they rode in silence, only speaking to occasionally go over the plan’s finer details. Riley would swap into some more feminine clothing once they were at the location and rush off into the road to play-act the lost and lonely lady. She’d swoon and faint or something like that, and Arthur, from his place on the hill, would wait for the men to come down from the coach to check on her. With the coach unguarded he’d pick off one whilst Riley took care of the other. It was simple enough, an easy job that in his opinion didn’t need so much fooling around. Arthur could handle it fine.

In the back of his mind he toiled with his thoughts. He was still a little hurt at the thought of Riley leading him on like she had that night. As much as he wished he’d been in his right mind he wasn’t, and no manner of wishing could make time turn back. He wished he’d never drank with her like he did. Or maybe that she wasn’t so damn fun to be around. It wasn’t that he blamed her for not wanting to be with him, not at all. It was more the fact that he had no idea what to make of her. First thing she’s all stoic and quiet, next she’s free and drunk and making flirty comments, and then she’s quiet again and avoiding him. Maybe she thought she’d made a mistake. Maybe he was a mistake, he thought sourly.

“Just over the ridge there. We’ll get a good vantage point.” Riley said, breaking him from his thoughts. He followed her line of sight and grunted in agreement, before trotting on with his horse.

Setting up took less than a minute. Arthur found a good spot with enough cover that he shouldn’t be seen from the ground. He checked the rifle, brushing his fingers across the leather wrap on it’s handle. It was a well looked after gun, and he wondered where she’d got it and why she had it in the first place.

“Charles let me borrow it.” Riley answered his unspoken question, and something tightened in Arthur’s chest. Well, that settled that then. He grunted again in acknowledgement.

Behind him he could hear Riley shifting on her feet. He didn’t turn to look. They had a job to do, none of this petty stupidity need get in the way.

“So… I wanted to-“ Riley was cut off by Arthur quickly grabbing her wrist and dragging her down into a crouch. He held up a finger to his lips and pointed over the ridge at the coach driving by. It was fast, too fast for a casual drive. And it was far too early. Riley was silent beside him, their shoulders touching as they assessed the situation.

Below them the coach was being pulled by four horses, all working their hardest to speed up with each crack of the reigns. Behind the coach were five riders, each wearing black bandanas over their faces. The hail of bullets whizzed through the air and that poor coach guard was frantically firing back over his shoulder. He didn’t have a chance in hell of getting out of this alive, Arthur thought. Damn it.

“Someone’s robbin’ the coach!” Arthur growled, quickly rising to his feet. “Come on! Change of plan, we’re going after it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh


	9. Whatever it takes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Whatever it takes by Imagine Dragons -
> 
> 'Whatever it takes  
> 'Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins  
> I do whatever it takes  
> 'Cause I love how it feels when I break the chains  
> Whatever it takes'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope y'all had a good Christmas! Here's chapter 9 for you!

The furious sound of hooves on a dirt road had alerted the local wildlife to scatter fearfully. Herds of whitetail deer ran for the cover of trees whilst flocks of buzzards ascended from the desert floor. In their wake they left behind a flurry of dust and sand that rose up around them like a tornado. Distantly the gunshots were coming closer. They echoed through the afternoon air in bursts, starting out as a quiet pop before blossoming into a deafening cacophony of gunfire and smoke. The hooves beat the ground incessantly to the beat of their hearts, racing towards the fight with guns raised and bandanas up. Riley urged Whip on with quick squeezes of her thighs, and her stallion reacted perfectly. He neighed high and sharp when they finally joined the orchestra of gunshots, preparing to increase the tempo with a battle cry of their own.

Arthur took the lead on this one, charging forward like an angry bull at a red flag. He was firing his weapon at the five riders in front of them, who up until now hadn’t noticed the addition to the party. Riley took to swerving to the left, edging closer and closer to flank one of the riders and line up her shot. She could shoot well enough from a distance, anyone with a bit of practice could, but whilst on horseback galloping obsessively towards certain doom, that took practice and skill. Riley fired her pistol at the back of the rider and caught his shoulder. He turned around with a bark and yelled for his companions.

“Boys! We got company!” The man called out, holding onto his shoulder but still able to hold his gun steady enough to shoot at her. Riley swerved again, directing Whip right so that she could fall behind them once again. She threw some covering fire at the men who turned in time to witness her as she ducked down low on her horse to keep out of the way of bullets.

Rivets of dust trailed behind them like smoke from a gun. Before them the coach was still frantically attempting to meet it’s guard, but it would be far too late for them. Riley and Arthur had mutually decided on a plan before they’d even got on the horses. Kill them all, take it all, and get the hell out of town. It was the way of the outlaw, after all.

Several bullets rained down in Riley’s direction as she began to reload her gun again. It was difficult on the back of a horse at full speed, but she’d done this once or twice before to know a few little tricks. She’d hold a bullet between her teeth whilst she opened the chamber, so rather than having the bullets rattle around in the small box she had them firmly where she could grab them.

To her right a man fell off his horse after falling victim to Arthur’s aim, and was promptly dragged a hundred yards away by the spooked mare. The man’s foot had caught in his stirrup, something that Riley had experienced once on her family farm when she first learned how to ride. It had been unpleasant to say the least so the guy was lucky he was dead. Arthur was charging forwards again, already firing shot after shot at the next rider in front of him.

Throwing her gun up, Riley shot at the nearest rider. He was on a black and white Tennessee Walker, a strong horse that was galloping for it’s life. Riley could see fear in the animal's eyes, however, the emotion was not mirrored in the eyes of his rider. The man looked wild and gleeful; it looked like he was enjoying himself. She fired a round at him but missed, only serving to alert him to her presence. He whipped around to her and fired his gun, effectively shooting the hat right off her head. Riley’s eyes widened as she felt the whoosh of cool air on her scalp. Her hand quickly went to assess the damage and she breathed a sigh of relief when she felt no blood.

“Hey! It’s a girl!” The man in front of her yelled, prompting the others to look back at her briefly. “Y’all seein’ this? A girl thinkin’ she can take down O’Driscoll boys!”

Something slowed down in Riley’s mind as she heard his words. Time seemed to stop around her, and she found herself reaching for a new pistol on her left hip. Ice ran down her spine as she raised the gun, teeth and jaw clenched tight. Her heart beat slowly, and she focused on that sound as she aimed the gun.

Inhale, beat.

Exhale, beat.

Fire on empty lungs.

The bullet exploded from her gun at almost point-blank range, tearing through the neck of the O’Driscoll raider. He slumped forward, his horse neighing wildly and straying off course. Riley took his position and the world returned to normal. This time, however, her lungs burned with the embers of her ruined home, and smoke-filled her mouth with each exhale.

Riley’s rage was silent yet precise. She shot another man and managed to get him in the shoulder, a wound that had him crying out in pain and dropping his gun with a curse. Riley focused on the next man but he was already yelling at his companion to drop the matter and run. Goddamn cowards, she’d kill every last one of them. Spurring her horse on faster she managed to catch up to them just as they veered off across the plains through the Heartlands. The coach was still on the road, and for a very brief moment she glanced over to it.

Arthur was riding alongside the coach, preparing to jump from his mare to the carriage. The men in the driving seat were dead and slumped over, but the horses were still running wildly. He wormed his way into the seat, pulling on the reigns hard and gave loud commands to convince the horses to stop. Riley could hear it all happening behind her as she growled out a ‘Come on!’ and began the chase once again.

She wasn’t far enough away to hear Arthur shouting angrily after her. She wasn’t far enough away to hear the bullet ricochet off the coach lockbox. But she was far enough away to not care in the slightest.

Riley rode like her life depended on it, and began gaining ground on the riders. She shot at them again but her eyes were blurred with the blood-red mist of anger, causing her to miss more and more. She was running out of time, running out of bullets, and they were getting away. As she quickly reached for her shotgun, the last weapon on her horse that was fully loaded, she happened to glance up and see the barrel of a Cattleman Revolver pointing exactly in her direction. She sucked in a breath, time slowed once more, and the shot flew hot and true through the air as her eyes began to close.

The sudden jolt and scream from her horse caused her to lose her grip on the reigns. Riley felt the ground before she saw it, sand and rocks and dust clogging her airways. She tumbled down and over Whip who’d collapsed and skidded another metre or so where he’d fell. Riley landed on her front, hands outstretched to slow her crash but far too late to stop the impact into the boulder. She clenched her eyes shut, as it got closer and closer, and then- nothing.

“…Jameson! Jameson! Goddammit, girl, hey! Wake up!” The voice was muffled and fuzzy like someone had taken a cloud and bundled her up inside it. She felt warm, warmth that was incredibly inviting considering the terrible ache in her body. She welcomed it with open arms but it had betrayed her and it was a searing heat. A buzz echoed in her ears and slowly grew louder and louder like the call of cicadas. A small frown creased between her brows as Riley turned her head away from the angry voice.

The heat was on her eyelids now, and a new sensation slowly fruited. She felt a wet feeling on her cheeks, something that burned like the summer sun itself but slowly cooled into a spring stream. It came thick and fast over her right eye, making it unbearable to even attempt to open them. Riley clenched her jaw as new sensations began to make themselves known. She felt the length of something pressing to her back and realised it was the ground. Shadows danced behind her eyelids and she knew them to be the world outside. The voice was getting louder.

“You’re a god damn fool!” Someone was growling. Was it a wolf? A man? Riley couldn’t tell. Slowly she opened her eyes and saw through the blinding sunlight that she was still in the Heartlands, but instead of riding her horse against the wind she was pinned beneath him, weighed down by the incredible weight of her dead companion.

“Jesus Christ, woman, what the hell was you thinkin’?” Arthur asked, but his voice was lighter. Was he relieved? Had he been worried?

Arthur slowly sat her up and pressed a bottle to her lips, gently tipping it back. The medicine washed over her lips and she drank what she could before coughing the rest onto her shirt. Above her, Arthur was checking for other injuries that may have needed immediate action. Riley realised then that she’d smacked her head on the boulder on the landing, causing a great diagonal gash from the root of her hair to her eyebrow. She winced as her fingers brushed over the injury, serving only to remind her for the events that had transpired.

“They were O’Driscolls.” Riley said, voice cracking as Arthur stood up. His shoulders were tense, his hands clenched around both his pistol and his belt. He looked furiously at her, but Riley was in no state to care.

“And you thought that instead of takin’ the coach you’d go after them boys that ran?!” Arthur asked, angrily. He was moving now, roughly finding purchase on Whip’s saddle to pull it up and away from Riley’s leg. The release of pressure was relieving, and she quickly scuttled backwards until her back hit the boulder she’d collided with.

“You coulda’ got us both killed, you damn fool! Dutch was wrong, I shoulda’ never taken you on this robbery. I ain’t here to play some idiot girl’s revenge games! Whatever they did to you, they did to all of us. You ain't special, Jameson, and you sure as shit ain’t immortal.” Arthur’s words hurt but they hardly touched her. He wasn’t her concern right now. He wasn’t what caused her heart to squeeze uncomfortably.

“They killed Whip.” She said as she stared into the lifeless eyes of her steed. “They killed my horse.”

Arthur was quiet for a moment, his steely gaze locked on her battered and bruised face, before whistling for his mare to ride back over to them. Riley’s jaw was clenched as she stared at her friend on the ground, hands balled into fists as that familiar feeling of ice ran down her spine.

Her partner in this particular crime had searched the saddlebags of her horse, taking anything of value that they could use back at camp. She didn’t want to see this man defile the memory of her friend, not like he was just another corpse to loot. Riley closed her eyes as the familiar burning feeling began to prickle them. She tensed her muscles and sucked in a breath, fighting the screaming in her legs as she began to rise from the ground. It was hard work but she managed to use the boulder for support and stand on her own two feet.

Wiping the blood from her face with the back of her hand, Riley limped towards Arthur’s horse and blankly stared as he mounted her. He held out his arm and she grabbed hold of him, hefting herself up behind him. She settled her hands on his sides and held onto his coat, and once he was satisfied she wasn’t going to fall off and die he clicked his tongue and began the ride back to camp. There wasn’t much to say on the journey home. They clearly had no arms from the coach robbery; it had been a huge goddamn disaster that was all her fault. If she’d just done as expected none of this would have happened. They’d have a take to prove to Dutch she was more than just another camp hand. They’d have money, maybe, as well. And worst of all she would still have had Whip, her loyal friend who now lay in the desert with buzzards and skeletons for company.

When they made it back to camp, Arthur didn’t speak with her as he helped her down from her horse. He pretty much took all of her weight over to Swanson, who for once in the entire time Riley had been there was sober. She spent a good while under the care of him and Miss Grimshaw, both of whom gave her lectures about using up camp supplies on such injuries. By the time she actually returned to her bedroll, exhausted and in pain, she found a small square of cloth sat just on top of her pillow. On closer inspection, she could see it was a horses blanket. It was the very same blanket she used to saddle Whip.


	10. Hellfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess who?
> 
> \- Hellfire by Barns Courtney -
> 
> 'Mothers, children  
> Lock your doors  
> I'm waiting  
> I'm ready to go
> 
> Burn in an alleyway  
> Through a dead end street  
> Murdering promises that I just can't keep'

_That robbery was a whole heap of trouble waiting to come back on us. Jameson is foolish and headstrong. She does not listen to reason, she relies on her emotions to guide her, and she will not take no for an answer._

_She reminds me of someone I know all too well._

A week had passed since the botched robbery, and as far as everyone in camp was concerned there just hadn’t been a successful take. Arthur hadn’t lied exactly, he’d just omitted the truth in certain parts. Mainly because he did not want to have to explain why he didn’t stay behind and take the coach like Dutch had asked. He didn’t fully understand it himself, but instead of take the reigns he’d gotten right back on his horse and galloped after Riley as quick as he could. She was already on the ground by the time he’d caught up, and that image stayed in his mind underneath the darkness of his eyelids for a solid four days afterwards.

He regretted the things he said.

There wasn’t a single thing he’d said that wasn’t true but Arthur knew he was capable of softer words. The girl was younger than him and in some ways he could see a little of his own grief in her. The loss she held inside of her soul was hidden deep, but Arthur could see that pain in her eyes when she’d sat on the dusty bones of the desert in front of her lost companion. He must have looked exactly the same when he’d lost Buckshot.

For the most part Arthur kept busy around the camp. He brought in game, pelts and contributed to the ledger like clockwork. As Riley was now taking some time to recover under the strict eye of Miss Grimshaw, he’d taken on her duty of chopping wood whilst Charles and Javier had shared the other chores. Arthur was stalling for time, he knew he was, but he just did not want to answer the letter Micah had sent a few days prior. It was a request to meet him soon, something about a coach robbery, something else about not being chicken. He hated it. The letter had been burned the second he’d finished reading it. But Dutch had been asking after Micah and Arthur figured his time was running out. There just wasn’t a way around it.

Camp was quiet when he left that morning. Arthur glanced over the sleeping figures of his family and quietly urged his horse onwards. His eyes lingered for a moment or two longer on the still form of Riley with his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed. She hadn’t spoken a word to him since the robbery. They’d surely crossed paths in camp, as small as it was, but not a single word was uttered between them. Arthur felt the nagging guilt in his stomach twisting like vines around his insides. The vines were sharp with thorns and dug into his soft parts whenever he stared at her from across the camp.

As Arthur rode to Strawberry once again he thought about how he could potentially talk to her. He wasn’t one to hold a grudge but he’d known men that did, and women too. Women, actually, were worse. Back when he was sweet on Mary Linton she’d somehow compile a list of all the things he’d done to make her mad at him, some things he didn’t even know he’d done. But he was young, foolish, and headstrong. So was she, but in a much different way. Riley reminded him of her a lot, actually, but there was definitely something different between the two.

Shaking the thoughts out of his head, Arthur settled on a short and sweet resolve. When he got back to camp tonight he would make amends with Jameson. He didn’t like the thought of her being mad at him, so his idea was to apologise and promise to make it up to her. He’d done similar things for the girls in camp from time to time. One year back before Micah was a part of the gang, Arthur had inadvertently told Karen that the brand new dress she’d bought in town looked like something his dead mother would have worn. He’d meant it as a compliment, honestly, he did, but looking back at his words he could see why she’d taken offence. It took two weeks of apologising and a gift of fine (stolen) jewellery to make it up to her. That seemed to always be Arthur’s problem. He just didn’t know what to damn well say half the time.

-

Micah was back, and the atmosphere in the camp could not have been thicker. The way that man swaggered back in made Arthur curl his fingers tighter around the reigns of his mare whilst he hitched her up. Micah walked in arms outstretched as if expecting the girls to flock to him like flies on shit. Obviously nobody did. In fact, scarcely anyone gave him the time of day aside from Dutch. Arthur busied himself with the care of his horse as he watched, eyeing the blond man suspiciously as he gesticulated his story of why he’d not come back straight away. Dutch seemed satisfied with the story, though why and how Arthur did not know. But Dutch being Dutch had a plan, and Arthur being Arthur would follow that plan even if it involved that snake of a man.

Arthur hated the fact that he’d brought this man back to the camp. He watched whilst he made his rounds, chatting with anyone that would listen about how he’d almost ‘single-handedly taken down a stagecoach’ whilst Arthur had cowered in fear. Thankfully the rest of the gang was able to see through this rat’s disguise, they knew what he was. Arthur didn’t have any worries about the men and Micah’s stories. It was the women and his… unwanted advances that made him mad. Micah was already sliding back up to Abigail, his clear favourite, who stood patiently chopping vegetables for that evening’s stew.

“How you keepin’ Abigail?” Micah asked, picking up a beer from the crate. Even the way he moved made Arthur’s skin crawl.

“Just fine.” She responded, hardly looking up from her task.

“You know I never told you this but… you’re quite a woman.” Micah leaned on the bench she worked on, getting far too close to her for comfort. She didn’t blanch, she merely ignored him.

“Thank you.” She spat, shortly.  
  


“Quiiiiiite a woman… you could make a feller real happy, bet you know how…” As Micah looked like he was about to say something else, Abigail cut him off by holding up her knife almost casually in his direction. Micah backed off instantly, hands up but with that same slimy smirk on his face as before.

“I got work to do.”

That’s how it went. Micah would pick a target, try and sweeten them up with fake words, and then go in for the kill like the strike of a rattlesnake. Deadly, loud, and unnecessary. Arthur finished brushing Gypsy free of the dirt she’d collected in the day’s ride, and began making his way back to his set up when he heard Micah’s voice again. This time he stopped and stared pointedly as this disgusting man leaned over the bedroll of Riley Jameson.

“Well howdy.” He said, slowly drawling his words as Riley looked up from her book. She still had cuts and grazes on her face from the fall, and a purple and green bruise around her left eye. She studied him for a moment before nodding. Somebody had to have told her about this man, one of the girls had to have warned her. Arthur found himself hoping she wouldn’t fall for his tricks.

“Didn’t know we got another… woman around camp.” He said, licking his lips as he leaned on the wagon.

“Well… Here I am.” Riley said quietly, and Arthur had to move closer to the round table to hear, inconspicuously looking like he was collecting dishes.

“Yeah, you are alright… Say, why don’t me and you take ourselves away behind those wagons there…?” Micah was gesturing with his hand, his other lodged firmly in his gun belt. Arthur felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“…No.” Riley stood up and began making her way to the chuck wagon, anywhere that wasn’t near Micah. He followed her like a bad smell.

“Because! Because, sweetheart, I gots needs and, well, look’s like the last man to have you weren’t kind. I can be kinder, though I ain’t opposed to a little-“ Before Micah could finish his sentence he was on the ground with his hands covering his mouth. The loud smack echoed through the camp, causing Arthur to whip around to see what had happened.

Riley stood over Micah with her fist clenched and face red. She stared down at the man with steel in her eyes and pointed a finger at him sharply.

“Don’t talk to me.” She said, voice calm and quiet despite her obvious rage. Fire danced behind her green eyes as she stared him down, and it was only with a quick glance that Arthur could see her hand was shaking a little. She was gone before he could take a single step forwards, off to the cliffside where Strauss would sometimes sit.

Micah, with his tail tucked between his legs, slithered off to nurse his pride and his broken nose. As much as he tried to fight it, Arthur couldn’t help the satisfied smirk that sat on his own lips. Maybe Riley had some fight in her that Arthur didn’t agree with, but she certainly had a lot of fight he could get behind.

With a smile on his lips and an idea in his mind, Arthur walked back over to the horses where Gypsy was grazing on grass. He saddled her up and left camp again, only this time with a lighter goal in mind. Maybe a new horse would cheer Jameson up.


	11. Renegades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Renegades by X Ambassadors - 
> 
> 'Long live the pioneers  
> Rebels and mutineers  
> Go forth and have no fear  
> Come close the end is near'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year! Have some chapter 11!

Names are a curious thing.

They can hold your future in a vice-like grip with several little words making up something infamous. The truth is a bad name can drag you down into the mud with the pigs for the rest of your life if you’re not careful. Take the name O’Driscoll, for example. It made your blood run sour just thinking it, made your tongue shrivel with each letter pronounced. Over the weeks she’d known an O’Driscoll, however, her opinion had changed slightly. Kieran was a boy at heart with kind eyes and a kinder soul. He didn’t deserve the name O’Driscoll much less than she did, and yet he was branded with it now. Like a scar it stuck to him, and everyone had a different reaction to it. Most of the men in camp sneered, and one time she actually saw Sean headbutt poor Kieran just for his past choice of companions. Maybe it was then that Riley decided she liked Kieren.

Some names gave her joy to hear, and some made her heart hurt. But mostly, as with most people she met, the names she learned would leave her mouth full of dust and needles. Several names did that to Riley’s tongue over the course of the years.

Micah Bell was a new one.

From the day she met him she hated him and his flirtatious bullying. The other girls in the camp had taken to warning her when he was around, and even some of the boys too. It seemed that from the get-go, with a punch to the nose and warning spat from her lips, she’d sealed her own fate with this wretch of a man. He had not left her alone since. For Riley, this meant not having a moments peace in camp. There was always a blonde rat sitting near to her at the table as she drank her morning coffee. In the evening when she tried to read her book by the fireplace he was there, talking in a voice so infuriating she could swear it turned the flames green with disgust. Her strategy for dealing with him was the road less taken: Ignorance. She pretended he simply was not there and therefore, she could not hear his swamp of a mouth or see the slime in his teeth. What she could see was a delicious soup in front of her, a steaming cup of coffee, and Lenny sat across from her trying to convey a secret message with his eyes asking if she wanted help.

The boys in the camp were mostly good. Sure, they had some complainers like Bill, Uncle and Pearson, but they were alright men as far as she was concerned. It was Micah that made bile rise in her throat whenever he began walking in her direction whilst she was chopping wood. Sometimes she’d get lucky and one of the men would sidetrack him along his way. Others times she’d have to suffer his ceasless bragging about his many exploits. Did that punch not teach him a damn thing?

It had been a few days since Micah had come back to camp when Arthur came back home. Riley had noticed his absence stuck out like a sore thumb. His big frame wasn’t there as a constant reminder that he held the backbone of this gang. He wasn’t there to contribute big chunks of venison to the pot, or offer to go to the local town and get their weekly supplies. His absence only seemed to spur Micah on, as well. She had a sneaky suspicion that he wouldn’t be as hard to cope with if Arthur were back in camp.

When he arrived Riley was sat by the morning fire with a cup of coffee in her hands. She’d had time to do a lot of thinking in the past few weeks, and she’d decidedly come to the conclusion that she had to strike up some form of communication with Arthur. She wanted to make up to him the massive failure of her robbery, to pay him back for the trouble she’d caused. Riley just needed to get into town, get herself a horse, and she’d be back in the game.

Now that Arthur was back in camp, slowly hitching up his horse all careful like, Riley felt knots twist in her stomach. She wasn’t so sure anymore about her plan, but managed to swallow the anxiety enough to pour a second cup of coffee in her cup and march over to the Cowboy.

“Mornin’.” She greeted him softly, tipping her hat back so that it wouldn’t hide her face. No hiding from his, no sir.

Arthur turned, hands still tangled in the cinch, and cleared his throat.

“Mornin’, Miss.” He said, finishing his task before turning to face her. Riley smiled a little at the care he put into his horse, admiring how she was always clean and happy unlike some of the other horses in camp.

“Gotcha some coffee… Figured you’d need it.” Riley extended the cup like an olive branch, and Arthur with only a split second of surprise on his face took it gratefully. She watched him grunt a thank you and take a gulp.

A moment of silence wrapped around their conversation like vines, and as Arthur shifted on his feet almost uncomfortably Riley opened her mouth to speak.

“I wanted to-“

“Listen-“

Both outlaws stopped and smiled at each other like dumb teenagers did when they were sweet on one another. Riley nodded at Arthur, asking him silently to continue as she shoved her thumbs into her gun belt.

“Wanted to say m’sorry.” Arthur gruffed out, eyes on his own boots. “Shouldn’a said none of them harsh words just when you’d lost yer horse. Wasn’t a kind thing to do.”

Riley pressed her lips together and nodded. She really appreciated that.

“Weren’t like it was lies.” She said with a small laugh, finding her footing now through their conversation. “I was one hell of an idiot and I paid the price. I was comin’ over here to tell you sorry too. I really did fuck up that take. I wanna make it up to you. I heard about a couple men ridin’ a coach through Valentine today that’re carryin’ a lot of cash on them. Made friends with the Clerk in the train station, he passed me a little bit of information after a drink or two in town.”

Arthur had switched during her time speaking. Instead of pushing the mud around with the heel of his boot he was listening intently, one hand laid over his pistol and the other scratching at his freshly shaven chin. He nodded, and sighed. For a moment Riley thought he’d say no, that he’d take someone else on the job and bring her back a share or something.

“Well… sounds fine to me. Only problem though is you’ll be needin’ a horse.” Arthur stepped away from Riley to began walking around Gypsy towards a horse that was just beside her. Before now Riley hadn’t noticed the white Arabian horse stood gorging itself on hay. Arthur patted her side and worked his hand up to her neck, stroking down the length of it softly.

“Luckily, I came across this lady whilst I was up in the mountains. She’s feisty, took me two whole days to catch her. Reminded me of you a lil’ bit.” The horse huffed almost like she was responding to Arthur, and Riley stepped forward with wide eyes and hands outstretched to touch her new mount’s back.

“You… You got me a horse?” She asked dumbly, her hand smoothing down the soft skin of the horse’s muzzle. Arthur didn’t say nothing, he just stood there with his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels. Something swelled in Riley’s chest, an emotion she would later realise was affection.

“Thank you.” She breathed, a beaming smile working its way onto her face. She spoke to the horse like a friend, offering her hay and an apple she had hidden in her pocket. She was so entranced by her new friend that when she eventually looked back up at Arthur she found him with red cheeks and a hidden proud smile. Her heart thudded in her chest, and her brow set into a look of pure determination.

“Let’s go rob a coach.” Riley said, grinning as she shoved her foot in the stirrup and hauled herself into place.

-

A couple of hours later a huge dust cloud was kicked up in the wake of two outlaws driving their horses away from a crime. Riley’s horse was fast, so fast she had to work on keeping her speed down rather than urging her on. She was wild, this horse, but she took direction from Riley with ease. Their relationship was still new but, in her heart of hearts, Riley knew they’d work well as a team in no time. The same, ironically, could be said about her and Arthur.

The robbery went off without a hitch. In the middle of the woods just outside of Valentine the coach had rumbled through, slowing down once the driver had seen a fallen tree in the road. Riley had jumped onto the roof and immediately had the driver under her pistol, whilst Arthur dealt with the two passengers. The men were happy to hand over their possessions in exchange for their lives, and they even got something they hadn’t bargained for. One of the men had been carrying some shine.

The escape had been easy and flawless, and as they rode together like bullets from a gun she couldn’t help but pull down her bandana and let out a loud laugh and cheer. Across from her, Arthur was grinning, his own horse panting to catch up with hers. Just before camp, just so they had time to make sure they weren’t being followed, Riley pulled off the main road toward the river. She pulled her horse to a gentle trot and pulled off her hat, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. Damn, it was good to be back in the game.

“Let’s stop here a bit, see what we got!” Arthur’s voice sounded from behind her, and Riley obediently slowed her new horse down to a halt. They sat together beside the water washing dirt from their faces and hands before they rooted through their haul. In total, they had about five hundred dollars in cash, something she was extremely satisfied with. They split the money in half, and then half again. She came away with a pocket full of cash, various trinkets to sell later, and a lighter heart than she’d woke up with.

For a short while, they sat by the river before deciding that they’d better head back to camp. It wasn’t five minutes before someone was on Arthur’s back, asking him for a favour once again, something about fishing with Jack. Riley wondered to herself if that poor man ever had a moment’s quiet. She was busily adding hers and Arthur’s take to the camp funds, enjoying the way the ledger looked with their names together and a large sum of money in the bank. As she came away she heard Dutch check the box, and gave a satisfied smirk at his impressed whistle. That’s right, she did that. She could earn her keep, like all the rest.

Giving herself a little time to relax after the day’s work, Riley read her book by the fire as the day’s sun turned to evening. It was a short while after the sun cast red light over their camp that Arthur returned with Jack, both of them looking pale and spooked. There was a short and quiet conversation with Abigail in which Arthur tried to seem reassuring, and then he was marching off to Dutch’s tent with a long sigh on his lips. Riley didn’t get too close but she could hear the anger and worry in Arthur’s voice. She felt those knots return to her stomach, and after catching a few words like ‘Pinkerton’ and ‘Freedom’ before both men came out of the tent. Riley watched them both, sitting at the round table with her book in her hand long forgotten. Something was up.

“…They’re just tryin’ to scare us into doing something stupid.” Dutch said, pacing back to Arthur after taking a moment to think. “We have turned a corner. We survived them mountains. We just need to _stay_ _calm_.”

The next day the gang was caught up in some trouble in Valentine with Cornwall’s men and the Pinkerton Detective Agency. When Dutch, Arthur and the rest of the men arrived back at camp there was a mass scramble to get themselves packed and get lost. Within a few hours they’d arrived at a new home as founded by Charles and Arthur. All the while Riley had a lump in her throat as they drove to the new camp, a fear that somewhere along the line this would happen again and at that point they’d lose someone. Everyone pulled their weight when it came to moving camp. Even Jack had a job to do and he did it without being asked. The camp, for the first time since Riley arrived, worked as one unit. Get the hell out of town, get the family somewhere safe.

The place Charles and Arthur had found was nice, but unbearably hot and muggy. Everyone was sweating and sticky by the end of the day when the sun was setting, tired and hungry and badgering Pearson for food. Whilst the camp was distracted she figured now to be the right time to take herself away and clean up. Two days of grime, sweat and dirt was layering her skin and it felt good to walk into the lake neighbouring their camp and feel the cold water lap up her bare thighs. She soaped herself up good and proper, pleased to finally feel like a woman again as she massaged the sore muscles in her neck.

It was such a shame a beautiful moment of privacy in the shade of the trees from the glow of the moon had to be ruined by two eyes staring at her through the bushes.


	12. Giving you a reason to fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Everyone by Everlast - 
> 
> 'Everyone cheats, everyone lies,  
> Everyone suffers and everyone cries  
> Old people laugh and young people try  
> Lovers they know when they look in your eyes  
> Everyone cheats, everyone lies,  
> Everyone hustles and everyone strives  
> Bad people win, good people die  
> Lovers they know when they look in your eyes'

_More problems have befallen us. More running._

_Leviticus Cornwall. The oil, sugar, rail and greed merchant whom we robbed a while back had us ambushed in Valentine. Seems he has added to the price on our heads. We shot our way out of town, and narrowly escaped with our lives. The only amusing aspect of the horror was Herr Strauss getting grazed and acting like he was preparing for a short trip down to hell._

_After this we fled the country and headed even further South and East, camping by a lake._

_This is pretty much new country for me. Charles and I saved a family of Germans who were in the process of getting themselves killed._

_He’s a better man than me. He does not need to think to be good. It comes naturally to him, like right is deep within us as opposed to this conflict between GOOD and EVIL that rages within me._

_If only we had fled west out of Blackwater, we could be free now, out where we belong beyond civilisation with the savages and the animals._

_Here, we won’t ever be home._

With a heavy sigh Arthur slipped his pen into the binding of the journal and tucked it safely back into his satchel. His eyes roamed across the camp slowly, taking in the new environment to see if there was anything else he could sketch. For the time being, he had some peace, a moments silence without someone asking for a favour. It was a rarity that Arthur cherished.

Across the camp around the roar of the main fire sat most members of his family. After a long day and half the evening of setting up the new camp, everyone was hungry as hell and in need of feeding. Luckily an unfortunate deer had wandered into camp earlier on, and Charles had tracked it down a few miles North and brought them back some meat. With the stew ready and everyone clamouring for their share, Arthur stood to make his way over when he noticed someone was missing.

Arthur’s blue eyes pinned her at the edge of camp walking towards the river, a towel over her shoulder and a bar of soap in hand. He smiled to himself a little, feeling a warm sensation bloom in his chest. Jameson must have felt comfortable enough with them to just go off like that, usually, she was one for going into town for a real bath in the local hotel. Arthur couldn’t say he blamed her, though. In this weather sometimes you just needed to jump buck ass naked into the lake to cool down as god intended.

As he joined the line for the stew, Arthur took one last look at where Riley had disappeared off to. She was long gone, but someone else was making their way over in that direction. He frowned, hoping with all his might that this man was just going over to one of the wagons, checking something, getting hay, anything other than following a member of their gang to watch them bathe. When the cowboy disappeared behind the trees, slinking into the woods, Arthur couldn’t hold himself back. He slipped out of the line and followed close behind, jaw clenched and fists balled.

It took Arthur a minute to find the footprints but when he did he was hot on the trail of the little rat. The heat in the night was no better than the heat of the evening, and sweat began rolling in beads down his shoulders and chest. Stealthily moving through the bushes, he came to an area with densely packed trees. Leaning against a spruce with his arms folded and one boot tipped up against the other, Micah stood with his back to Arthur.

“What in the hell do you think yer doing?!” Arthur growled. He kept his voice down, though, the less Riley knew of this the better. He could see her silhouette in the water, back towards them with her long hair wet against her shoulders. She was gorgeous like that, framed so prettily in the night light that if he’d been a worse man he’d have sketched the scene. Clenching his jaw, Arthur focused his attention on Micah, who’d turned with a slick grin as if they’d both gone as friends to a peep show.

“Purdy, ain’t she?” He said, laughing to himself. Arthur felt bile rise in his throat. “’Bout time one of these camp girls gave me somethin’ for all that money I been bringin’ in. I reckon she’ll do just fine. Think she fucks as hard as she punches, or do I gotta hold her down?”

Arthur’s grabbed Micah’s coat in both of his fists to shove him up against the tree until both his feet had left the ground. His legs flailed a little and his hands gripped tight around Arthur’s wrist, a small spark of panic in the rat’s eyes. But Micah didn’t stop smiling like the good-for-nothing he was. Arthur growled.

“You ain’t touchin’ her. You ain’t touchin’ nobody, ya’hear? I see you anywhere near her I’ll tear off your god damn balls myself. That is if she don’t get there first.” Arthur’s voice was low and quiet, but Micah had a way of enraging him by smiling like his words meant nothing.

“Woah now, Cowpoke! Getting’ all sweet on these girls ain’t like you. You can’t learn to share? Thought you was the biiiiiig mister protector, not the hoarder. Ain’t like she’s gonna fuck you, old man, girl like that got standards. She gonna want a man that knows how to use her.” Micah’s voice made the knots in his stomach tighten uncomfortably, and Arthur drew his fist back threateningly.

“Hello?”

Arthur dropped his grip on Micah who immediately took the opportunity to scurry away like the cat who’d got the cream. He was left standing alone with his hand on his hip, and the other rubbing at the shadow on his jaw. Dammit.

“Who’s out there? Goddammit…” Arthur heard splashing as Riley made her way out of the water, and he silently cursed himself for his decisions.

“It’s me!” He said, loudly as he exited the hiding spot with his hands up. He made sure to not look directly at her, instead casting his eyes up to the sky as if the lord himself were shaking his head disapprovingly at him.

“Arthur? What the ever-loving fuck are you doing?” Riley sounded pissed, and warmth flashed in Arthur’s cheeks as he kept his eyes on the sky.

“Shit- This ain’t at all what it looks like.” Real smooth, Morgan. Caught creepin’ in the bushes like that is obviously gonna look bad. “Saw someone followin’ you… Came to check it out. He’s gone now. I’m sorry. I ain’t seen nothin’, I promise I weren’t lookin’ for that.”

Arthur turned his eyes to the ground out of respect for her nudity, but soon he heard her clear her throat and dared to look up. Jameson didn’t look too pleased, but at least she was dressed in her jeans and shirt again.

“Was it Micah?” She asked, voice filled with disgust. Arthur nodded, and he’d never been more grateful than he was then for someone understanding Micah’s bad reputation. “Damn idiot will not leave me alone.”

Arthur sighed and moved to sit on the fallen tree that Riley had used to lay her clothes whilst she bathed. He gave a small chuckle, and grunted as he set himself down.

“Sure. He was worse with Abigail when he first joined. Wouldn’t leave the poor girl alone, not for lack of her tryin’ ta’ avoid him. I think he sorta got the hint when John got reeeeeal drunk one night and threatened him behind the wagons with a loaded pistol. He ain’t stopped, but it ain’t half as bad anymore. I think he had a thing for beautiful girls.” Arthur regretted what he said as soon as it came out of his mouth. His ears went red, and he ducked his head with a small cough to rub at the back of his neck awkwardly. Damn him and his big mouth.

“He likes the pretty ones, huh?” Riley asked, sitting heavily beside Arthur whilst towelling through her hair. “Guess I’d better disfigure myself.”

They both laughed at the joke, Arthur thankful that Riley hadn’t called him out on the compliment. The moon was high in the sky casting beautiful light over the lake. Arthur’s fingers itched to catch the way its light bounced off the water and cast shadows of the trees on the island opposite.

“Thank you.” Riley said, after a few minutes of silence. “For looking out for me. Do you think he’d have tried something if you weren’t here?”

Everything in Arthur screamed yes, warning signs blaring like dynamite in a mine. He sucked in a breath and gave a small nod and a shrug. It wasn’t his place to judge what Micah’s actions could have been. Only what they have been. To his knowledge, the man had never laid a hand on a woman uninvited. To his current knowledge.

“I ain’t gon’ let him hurt you.” Arthur found the words falling from his lips reverently, almost like a promise. Riley was quiet for a moment before sliding her water cool hand over the top of his rough and hot ones. Neither of them moved, not until a Coyote yipped somewhere in the woods behind them and startled Riley’s hand back into her lap. They went back to camp after that to try and scavenge for leftover stew.

-

Bright and early three days into their new camp location Dutch announced he had a plan. Of course.

In the local town of Rhodes he’d heard of a high stakes poker game with some big players. He’d wanted Riley, Athur, Bill and Lenny to attend in order to see if they could swindle their way into the game and out with the cash. Arthur had played this game before, it could be kinda fun if you were with the right people, and the current partners he’d been given weren’t too bad. Arthur had dressed up in his best suit, which was actually just a new shirt and waistcoat, clean jeans and a dark coloured jacket on top. He had to play the part of a rich man, just to make those idiots think he was worth inviting into the game. With the plan explained in full to Lenny, Bill and Riley, the other two men had gone off to get changed into finer outfits whilst Riley pondered on her part of the plan.

Arthur had asked her to be their watchman on the door to make sure nobody unsavoury came into the building whilst they played their hands. Riley had hummed, pursed her lips, and wandered off with a simple ‘I have a better idea.’

Arthur had no idea what it was as he hitched up their second hand (stolen) coach to a pair of shire horses. To look the part and act the part, he needed to ride in style after all. He hadn’t a clue what Riley had in mind until she came strolling over wearing an overlarge blue hat and a matching ankle high dress cinched in at the waist with a lady’s waistcoat. Arthur had to double-take as he wasn’t entirely sure what he was seeing.

“Uh… Miss Jameson…?” He asked, brows raised but a small smirk on his lips. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Acting. How about I play the part of Mister Callahan’s wife… His promiscuous wife who flirts with very drunk men and looks at their cards in the process…?” Riley smiled, putting on a thick southern accent and a highly feminine voice. Damn, she’d even rouged her lips. Arthur snorted and shrugged his shoulders. He had to admit, having a little helping hand may work out.

“Well… Don’t see why not. Just be sure to-“

“Whooooooeee! Don’t you look just fine, Miss Jameson!” Lenny’s cheerful voice broke into the conversation. He was wearing his finest suit of black and white, good enough to play the part of their driver as per the plan. Riley waved a hand and rolled her eyes, but her cheeks were tinged pink as she moved to hitch her skirt up around her knees so she could climb into the coach. Arthur instinctively stuck out his hand to help her, which she took gratefully as she clambered inside.

Once Bill had joined them, huffing and whining about his suit being too tight and hating these sorts of jobs, they made their way out of camp and onto the road. It was getting dark as they rode in with Arthur, Bill and Riley in the back of the coach. They pulled up outside of the saloon and made their way inside, Lenny sticking with the coach in case they needed a quick getaway. He was now the lookout man as well, after all.

Inside, the saloon was bursting with life. Men of all walks of life drank together, joked together, and argued like old friends. Working girls flirted from the balcony, or else sat in the laps of potential customers. It was difficult to get up to the top floor where the poker game was, and Riley hung off of Arthur’s arm like the prize she pretended to be. Men gawked, she winked and flirted, giving them little waves and small giggles. Somewhere in the back of his mind Arthur wondered where she’d learned all these tricks.

The poker game was in full swing by the time they arrived. Arthur could see a spare seat at the very end of the table with five other men sitting around the green cloth. In the middle of the table he saw stacks of cash, wads of bills and even a few items of jewellery and other finery. He smiled widely, accepted a cigar from Bill who was slowly circling the table, and began his introductions.

“Gentlemen! Might you have room for one more player? Me and the wife are fairly new in town, stayin’ in Saint Denis just over the way. We heard there was a poker game with some real players here tonight. Figured you’ fine gents wouldn’t mind an out o’ town oil merchant joining in.” Arthur played Mr Callahan well and introduced himself and his ‘wife’ Mrs Callahan to the table. As soon as Arthur pulled out a bag of coins and set them on the pile of notes, the other men were eager to let him join.

Sitting down, Arthur took his hand and began to get himself in the right frame of mind for playing. He wasn’t the best player, but with Bill stalking the table and Riley-

The girl had spun around and sat herself in his lap daintily, one arm draped across his shoulder while the other cupped his cheek. She kissed his other roughened cheek gently, much to the delight of the men around the table. Instinctively his hand settled on her hip to help her balance, and the question of what she was doing died on his tongue as her gentle lips touched his scarred cheek.

“Let’s order a few drinks, my love? Something for all these fine gentlemen here?” Riley’s voice filtered through his ears like honey, and he had a hard time figuring out what she said as the men around them whooped and hollered.

“Fine idea, ma’am! Fine idea!”

“This girl knows how ta’ please!”

“Whoo, let’s get that good whiskey if mister big is payin’!”

Next thing he knew he had a drink in his hand and his arm around Jameson’s waist, holding her in place as they acted the husband and wife. Vines knotted in Arthur’s stomach, worming their way up into his lungs. His cheeks were red with more than just rouge, and his mind was cloudy with impure thoughts. She was a solid weight against his chest, a constant reminder of how close and warm she was.

How the hell was he meant to focus on the game whilst Jameson was handing out drinks as if whiskey were water? After a few hands where he lost spectacularly and the winner dragged his winnings sloppily across the table, it finally dawned on him. She was getting them as drunk as all hell. She’d hardly touched her own drink aside from taking a few flirtatious sips, and Arthur could hardly reach his beer with his lack of spare hands. Things seemed to be going according to a different plan altogether.

After another round, Arthur gestured for Bill and spoke quietly with him over the chair. He’d said to scope out some other opportunities in the bar, that he and Riley had a change of plan and they’d take it from there. Begrudgingly the ex-soldier agreed and went on his way, and Arthur found himself enjoying this game a little more than he would have if they’d gone alone with the original plan. After all, he had a pretty lady in his lap who was tipping a bottle of beer up to his lips much to the amusement of the drunken gentlemen at the table.

A couple hours in and Arthur had won and lost a couple hands, pretending to knock back bottle after bottle of beer when in actual fact Bill had paid off the bartender to serve him water and the other’s stronger whiskey. The five men were all fairly gone by the time Riley had taken it upon herself to make a move. She’d stood from Arthur’s lap, a warmth he missed immediately, and went around the table sitting in the lap’s of each man, slowly sneaking things from their piles until they were dwindled down to nothing.

She was subtle in the way she hid bills down her dress cleavage, only doing so when Arthur cracked loud jokes with the other men and she had her target thoroughly distracted. One by one bill folds disappeared off the table and their victims were none-the-wiser.

It was with the last man that she faltered. Riley sat in his lap and pulled his head to her breast, carding her fingers through his hair as she spoke about some nonsense of being a wild youth. Her hand slipped into his pocket, unlatched the gold pocket watch from its clasp, and quickly retreated to a hidden pocket she had in her waistcoat. The man reached for his beer at the wrong moment and knocked the watch right out of her hand. Everything at the table stopped, and people stared in their direction. He caught her wrist in his large hand and squeezed, causing her to cry out in pain.

“What’re y’doin’?!” The man slurred, standing up angrily and shoving her from his lap. “Thief! Thieves! Someone get the Sheriff!” The man yelled as he swayed on the spot, twisting Riley’s arm in an unnatural way. She dropped to the floor and for a split second her eyes landed on Arthur’s. It went without saying that now was the time for a quick escape.

Arthur snapped into action, standing up to tap on the man’s shoulder and punch him directly in the jaw the second he turned around. Just as the man fell backwards Riley had moved out of the way and had thrust her knee into the groin of a man attempting to encase her in his arms. He went down like a sack of bricks, and Arthur laughed as he threw another punch at a drunkard attempting to draw his gun.

With Riley free, Arthur dragged her away from the table by the hand and began making for the balcony, running like a mad man as patrons of the bar drew their guns and began firing in their direction of escape. On the stairs, he thudded down them quickly, still with a tight hold on Riley’s hand. Wood splintered around them as bullets hit the building, narrowly missing them. He ran down the back of a building, quickly rushing through the gardens of homeowners and businesses until he found a spot in a back alley. He was about to crash around the corner when he heard voices and saw the bright yellow glow of a lantern shine in their direction. Before he could say shit he felt himself be dragged backwards by a forceful hand and he was chest to chest with Riley against the wood of the Gunsmiths, her lips on his in an urgent kiss.

Her lips were hot against his, soft and seering through his skin as one of his hands moved to frame her face. The other braced against the dirty wood of the building they pressed against, his body flush against hers. Her hands didn’t move from his jacket, balled up at his chest in a vice-like grip. Arthur didn’t think, didn’t breathe, just felt the way her lips moved against his as hungrily as his own. He didn’t take time to notice the light leaving them in darkness or the muttered apology of the lawman making his way to the saloon.

After a moment Riley stopped, turning her head to look at the dark entrance of the alley to see if the law had gone. All Arthur could see were stars behind his eyelids as he softly gasped for breath, his hand still hovering on her pink cheek.

“I think they’re gone.” Riley whispered, and Arthur realised he was still incredibly close. He blinked, stuttered an apology, and took a few steps back to give her some room. His heart hammered in his chest and his mind ran a thousand words per minute. In the few moments they had been separated he figured it had been a ploy to make the law think they were just two drunk people getting a little excited down the side of the street, nothing to worry about. It was brilliant, really, but Arthur couldn’t help the thought sliding around his head that said it was all an act.

“Let’s go, before they come back.” Riley said, flashing him a bright smile. She had rouge smeared across her lips, and Arthur knew he had a similar look on his own so he wiped his mouth on the cuff of his jacket. The smile gave him a minuscule splash of reassurance, and together they rushed to the edge of town where Lenny and Bill were waiting with the coach to drive them back to camp.

That night Arthur wrote about the incident in his journal, omitting the kiss for fear of his words falling into the wrong hands.

_I enjoy working on jobs with Jameson. She has a mind like Hosea for conning people, and courage like no woman I have ever met. I may find myself playing the fool again very soon but at least I am enjoying the ride._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New year!


	13. The Chain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Train robbery's and stolen kisses
> 
> \- The Chain by Fleetwood Mac - 
> 
> 'Listen to the wind blow, down comes the night  
> Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies  
> Break the silence, damn the dark, damn the light'

Dawn broke over the camp, leaving everything covered in damp morning dew. Droplets of water covered the grass and the blankets of those that slept in the elements. Riley awoke feeling sweaty and warm; she still struggled to adjust to the new temperatures of the swampy lands they’d arrived in just a week or so ago. This area was nicer than the last. At least there wasn’t the threat of waking up to frozen toes and visible breath anymore. Rising from her bedroll, Riley could hear the thick snores of other members of the camp. In front of her she could see Uncle passed out on top of the circular table, bottle in hand and union suit open to the world. She’d got used to seeing that sort of sight by now.

Across the camp she could see Lenny stood with his rifle in hand, guarding them as they slept. That poor kid always seemed to be on guard duty. Riley had taken a couple of shifts before in the evening just to work her share, but she always found it boring as hell and one time may have dozed off whilst standing up. Lenny never seemed to do that. He took his job seriously, and as a boy of just 19 Riley admired him for it. At 19-years-old she had been pick pocketing and thieving just to try and survive.

After making her bedroll up she made her way to the edge of camp on the eastern side where the chickens were. There she let them out of their hutch and began to scatter the feed. Now that she was moving around with food the horses were alert and aware of her too. They knew they were next, and if their impatient stamping was anything to go by then Riley needed to hurry up.

With the animals fed, including Jack’s new dog, Cain, she could hear some members of the gang starting to rise. Pearson was first up to begin the breakfast preparation. Today was porridge, by the looks of it. Riley was thankful she’d found some raspberries in the woods the day before when she’d been unsuccessfully hunting for rabbit. At least it would make the breakfast taste a little bearable.

As she focused on her last chore of the morning, chopping wood for the rest of the day’s scout and campfires, she let herself drift into her thoughts.

Not even four days ago she’d taken part in a robbery that tested her cunning and resilience. It had been an incredible thrill to escape the law, and her method was just the icing on the cake. Riley chewed on her tongue as she remembered the kiss and the way Arthur had so readily leaned into it. She remembered the feeling of his stubble against her skin, rough and eager whilst his hand, with its matching roughness, lay gentle on her cheek. It hadn’t been a well thought out plan but it sure had worked, anyhow. And as much as she desperately wanted to continue – and god damn she really had – she knew they’d needed to get the hell out of dodge before the law figured out they were the thieves.

The drive back had been a little awkward with Bill complaining the entire time about what a bullshit mission it had been. At one point he even commented on the red on Arthur’s mouth, asking him if he’d been in the cross fire of a stray bullet. Riley had hid her snort behind a cough, and chose that moment to extract the stolen goods from her dress. Bill shut up, and Arthur was spared the scrutiny and poor excuses he was trying to stutter out.

Dutch had been pleased with their take when they got back to camp. They’d celebrated with the rest of the family and Pearson even put herbs and spices in the fish stew without a fuss. One thing was nagging at Riley, though. Arthur seemed to avoid her after they’d gotten back. It wasn’t as much that he was actively leaving whenever she was close by; it was just that he didn’t seem to incite conversation or even look in her direction much anymore. In the back of her mind Riley wondered if she’d made things awkward between them with that escape plan back in Rhodes.

“Jameson! Bill, Javier, John, Arthur, Micah. Come over here.” The familiar call from Dutch’s tent pulled Riley from her contemplations. She slid the axe back to the ground and replaced her hat back on her head before wandering over to where Dutch had called them.

He stood by the round table with his hands on his hips and a cigar between his lips, watching Uncle with a fond disapproval that he seemed to reserve for the less helpful members of the group. With a swift move he lifted his boot and gave Uncle a kick to the side, which caused him to roll off the table and onto the ground with a yelp. The older man stood up with a curse on his lips, but seeing it had been Dutch he simply waved him off and went to find a tree to curl up under. With the table now clear Dutch sat down, gesturing for other members of the gang to do the same. Riley sat down on the fur-lined crate and waited as the other men dragged themselves to the table.

“You boys – and lady – are the most capable gun-slingers I have available, and I need you for a mission I’ve had planned for a few weeks. Luckily down here we’re far enough away that nobody will expect our merry band of reprobates. Now, there’s a train headed west through Valentine this afternoon. This train is carrying a _lot_ of bonds. Now, I know, we had a bit of trouble with Cornwall and those hot bonds a while back but this is different. These bonds are already stolen. So, my thinking is that the true owner is gonna want them back. Of course, for a fee.” Dutch was smiling as he spoke, and he’d produced a map to splay on the table and was dictating where the train would come from.

Across the table Arthur stood with his hat low over his face and his hands on his gun belt. He was listening intently, nodding whenever Dutch gave them information. If she caught a glimpse of his face she’d have thought he looked tired. Riley listened fixedly, chewing on her lower lip. She’d never robbed a train before. She’d never actually been on one; her mother had been quite scared of them when she was growing up. This could be difficult, but she wasn’t about to turn down something Dutch had personally asked her to do.

“The Game is simple. You’ll stop the train, get on-board, half of you will take charitable donations from the rich passengers, and the other half will go find me those bonds. Sound simple enough?” The group either grunted, nodded, or gave their affirmations. Dutch clapped his hands together once and stood up from the table.

“Good. I have _faith_ in you, you are my _family_. We just need one more big take after this and we can disappear. Have faith in me, and we will prosper!” With his final encouraging words everyone was parting in their separate ways to get their horses and themselves ready for the day. The first thing Riley did was get some snacks for the journey before the boys did. They always took the best stuff. She threw a couple apples and a tin or two of beans and fruit in her satchel before deciding to stock up her ammunition behind Arthur’s tent.

She was quiet as she loaded her weapons and tucked a few spare boxes into her pockets. Her eyes flickered up to Arthur once or twice as he sat on his cot with his journal in his lap. Arthur was always prepared, she thought. He never seemed to be caught off guard. Riley could see over the gap that separated the ammunition part of the wagon to Arthur’s little private encampment. The journal looked worn and ragged from use, but still had bright pages so she guessed it had only been a few months old. On the pages she could see his scribbled handwriting beside a drawing of a woman. The figure was hunched over something that had been sketched but unfinished. Arthur was currently focused on adding detail to the arm and shoulder of the woman. She leaned forwards to get a better look, twisting her head slightly. From her hands slipped a box of shotgun shells, which clattered over her boots. She swore and bent to pick them up as Arthur snapped the journal shut and tucked it away in his satchel.

When Riley stood back up with the shells in her hands she saw Arthur had was making his way over to his horse. Damn, she really hoped he hadn’t caught her staring.

-

The ride to Valentine was uneventful. Riley brought up the rear with John. It did give her a chance to actually speak with him, but he wasn’t much of a conversationalist. He’d give meagre answers when she asked how he and his family were doing, so she guessed it was a sore spot for him. Micah was riding front with Arthur, Bill and Javier behind them. Micah’s voice still made her skin crawl as if she were covered in ants. He talked almost non-stop about some bullshit she didn’t have the energy to focus on. Since Arthur had followed him to where she bathed, she’d been a lot more careful now whenever she slipped away. Always made sure to go with the other girls so they had each other’s backs. Sadie was especially great at keeping the girls entertained and protected as they bathed.

In recent days she’d become much more of a help around camp after nearly killing Pearson with a butchers knife. Riley saw a little of herself in Sadie, it was nice to have another girl around camp that felt the way she did about getting stuck in with the dirty work. Sadie was older than her by a few years, but Riley felt a certain connection to her that dipped into the realm of camaraderie.

The boys pulled off the road and over scorched plains as they neared their destination. The railroad curved beyond the canyons here, and so gave a perfect opportunity to ride alongside the train to board it. The plan was for one man to get on the train and stop the driver, two to take care of any guards in the first two carts and find the bonds, and the last men to take the train from behind to make sure nobody got off to alert the law. Riley was to go last with John and Javier.

Arthur and Micah rode ahead, dust billowing behind them as they stormed alongside the track to where they planned to ambush. Riley stayed behind with Javier and John, pulling her mount to a halt behind a large outcrop of rocks. Somewhere in front of them, Bill was already ahead as the frontman to stop the train.

It took all of ten minutes for the train to roll through, smoke billowing behind it. Riley, Javier and John all kicked their horses into action as soon as it passed them by, chasing after it with masks on and guns raised. Javier shot the guard at the end of the train, catching him expertly between the eyes. Now they just had to board. Chasing the train was easy, but climbing on was a whole other issue. John went first, diving for the rails at the back of the train and hanging on for dear life. He swung himself up and into the carriage, already firing false shots to the ceiling, scaring the travellers. Javier was next, a lot slower and methodical than John’s clumsy leap. He jumped onto the ladder on the side of the train, pulling himself up towards the roof. Riley felt fear rise in her stomach, up into her lungs and filling her mouth like smoke. She shivered, feeling the hair on her arms rise as she began to stand atop her horse who she had finally named Trigger.

Standing in a crouch, Riley gained her balance and surveyed the space between her and the train. It wasn’t a tough leap, but her heart was in her throat as she pushed away from Trigger and soared with her arms extended towards the same ladder Javier had used. She landed, smacking like a ton of bricks against the metal of the train. That would leave a mark. Her hands latched around the ladder rungs tightly, and she began to haul herself up to the roof of the train where Javier stood waiting to offer her a helping hand. Standing on top of the train was exhilarating. It almost made the jump and the fear worthwhile. The wind threw her flyaway hair backwards, the rest tucked neatly up under her hat. She closed her eyes for a second, sucked in a breath, and nodded to Javier. Time to begin.

They carefully walked over to the next carriage, hopping over the gap as the train lulled in speed around the bend in the tracks. Unlatching the roof’s entrance, Riley dropped down swiftly followed by Javier. There was a lot of shouting in this cart, as John stayed with the last one in case anyone tried to be a hero. Riley unlatched a canvas bag from her belt and held it out to the passengers, most of whom eagerly gave their belongings and what money they carried for fear of facing the wrong end of her pistol. Javier spoke quickly, firing his weapon towards the heavens once, twice, three times for an intimidating effect. Riley felt her hands shaking slightly, but otherwise, she kept her cool. She’d learned that as long as you looked like you knew what you were doing, that’s what other people thought.

She kept a firm stance with her pistol aimed at the male passengers, the bag outstretched as they handed over their valuables. Riley could see a man struggling to hide something in his jacket, obviously something he didn’t want taken. She smirked under the cloth covering her face and stalked toward him, gun cocked towards his temple.

“You wanna hand that over, feller?” She asked, but the man wasn’t making eye contact with her. She slammed the handle of her pistol down against his jaw, knocking him off his seat. He was very quick to hand over the billfold after that.

With the carriage handled, Riley attached the loot back to her belt and went to speak with Javier. She grinned beneath her mask, and spoke in as rough and deep a voice she could manage.

“What next?”

“Go check on Tacitus. Train ain’t stopped yet, something might be holding them up.” Javier said, aiming his weapon around the carriage. Riley nodded, shooting off towards the front of the train like a bullet. She hopped over luggage that had fallen in the walkway and walked with purpose towards the door.

In the new carriage, Riley could see Micah holding a gun to a woman’s head. Arthur stood with the collection bag, visibly angry with him but they were too far into the story to change plans now. With the bag full, Arthur passed it to Micah, who thankfully let go of the woman who was already a sobbing wreck.

“Well, later Cowpoke!” Micah cast a salute and holstered his gun before shooting off to collect the rest of the loot from Javier and John. Again, not part of the plan but there wasn’t a lot they could do.

“Uh- Tacitus! You got the bonds?” Riley called, finally gaining his attention. Arthur turned and made his way towards her, gun still drawn and eyes pinned on the passengers. He nodded an affirmation. “Train’s not stoppin’, what the hell’s Bill doin’?”

“I don’t know, but I’m gonna go see. You alright watchin’ this carriage?” Arthur asked, voice gruff as he made his way towards the open hole in the roof. She didn’t have a chance to reply before Arthur was walking away. The carriage was the last one they could walk straight through, the next one was full of coal. He hoisted himself up using the carriage seat as leverage, and Riley quickly followed. She hopped up on the seat and pulled herself up through the hole.

“Arthur!” She called out, waiting for him to stop just in front of her, crouched to try and listen to what she wanted to say.

“Be safe!” Riley yelled, pulling down her bandana so the words could reach him. Arthur did the same, except he offered a small smile instead of words. Riley reached for his coat, grabbed at it with her fist, and pulled.

She kissed him like she had the night they’d escaped the poker game, like a dying woman in need of water and he was the oasis. Arthur’s hands braced on the train to keep himself from slipping, but he returned the kiss enthusiastically. She’d surprised him, and that thrilled her. That gave her hope. Pulling back, Riley grinned at Arthur and released his jacket. She winked, saluted him with two fingers, and dropped back down into the carriage to continue her work with both pistols raised and a scowl on her brow.

The last thing she saw of Arthur was surprise in his eyes and pink on the tips of his ears. She liked seeing him like that. He looked incredible atop the roof, kissed within an inch of his life in the midst of danger. Perfect.

Eventually, the train ground to a stop and Riley took the opportunity to fire her gun once more, just for intimidation's sake. People cowered, and she could already hear the sound of hooves from the horses that followed the train. She made her exit swift, and in moments was back on her horse and galloping away with the gang. Micah was hopefully long gone by now with the majority of the loot, having already left the train from the back a few minutes prior. The remainder of them rode like hell away from the scene of the crime, each of them heaving breaths along with their horses.

Five minutes later and John recommended they all split up to fool the law that might track them. Riley agreed, taking herself East towards Van Horn whilst Javier, Bill and John all took different directions. But Arthur was following her close behind, hot on her heels. She glanced behind herself, cast him a taunting smirk, and edged her horse on faster.

Once away from the chaos, Riley slowed the race once she found cover of trees and forest. She let Trigger come to a halt and turned, watching Arthur trailing behind her. They were both panting as they dismounted, staring at one another with one question hanging thick in the air. Arthur looked dishevelled, his Bandolier almost sliding off his shoulder along with his jacket, stalking towards her like a predator. Riley probably didn’t look so different, hair askew under the hat, cheeks flush from the excitement of the crime. Her jacket had fallen open in the chase, her white shirt similarly soaked with sweat as Arthur’s was. She felt incredible.

Riley surged forwards, breaking the quiet to throw her arms around his neck and drag him down for a heated kiss. Arthur responded readily, only this time he was prepared. He backed her up against a large oak tree, pressing her against the rough bark with one hand tangled in her hair and the other firm on her hip. He pushed even closer, if that were possible, pressing the length of himself from chest to knees against her body. Riley was enclosed between his body and the tree, a scorching sensation on her lips and a passionate heat in her stomach. Both of their hats lay forgotten on the ground but neither noticed, far too preoccupied with tasting, testing, and pushing the limits of this newfound intimacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to thank you all for reading, I'm having so much fun reading this and editing it with my beta reader. It's 12 whole chapters, and I still have a good story to follow! Stay tuned for sexy times :D 
> 
> Also: When you're writing a chapter about stealing bonds and almost forget to steal the bonds.


	14. Lullaby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just going fishin'.
> 
> \- Lullaby by Christian Larsson - 
> 
> 'So here we are at the end of it all  
> Where shadows grow in disguise  
> History repeats itself  
> Let’s pray for all mankind  
> Pray for all mankind'

_I have had one hell of a day and it’s only getting better. I may have found myself entangled with the new girl in camp, Riley Jameson. I’m yet to decide if that’s a good thing._

_I realise I have yet to describe her. She’s got these long curls of dark hair that sit on her shoulders when its down, and when its up her hair is tucked under an old cowboy hat like mine. I guess she hides her hair so she looks more like a man. Pretty smart move; there’s no way a woman could survive as long as she has without some tricks to keep the wolves at bay. Riley’s got real nice sun-kissed skin. I think she spent most her life outdoors like I have. Like most of us. Think I heard her mention once she lived on a ranch?_

_I like her eyes. I wish I had a coloured pencil so I could add the cacti green hue to my sketches, make them seem more real. I find it hard to capture her likeness without her eyes. The way she dresses is odd, too. Not many women wear men’s clothes, though I suppose robbing and thieving would be difficult in a dress. She just don’t seem like the kind to voluntarily wear ladies outfits. She’s got this jacket that she always wears, it’s a nice dark leather thing. I’ve seen her pull apples out of pockets I didn’t even know pockets could be. She’s full of surprises._

_The sketches I’ve done don’t do her justice. I’m going to work on a proper drawing of her to see if I can catch the way she smiles when I say something foolish._

Arthur awoke to a fresh and slightly colder morning in Lemoyne than any they’d woken to before. Yet despite the cooler weather he still felt a layer of sweat fusing his union suit to his skin in an uncomfortable way, pulling awkwardly when he sat up on his bedroll. Arthur rubbed at his chin and sighed when he felt the length of his beard. It would need a trim today, he hated when it got much longer than an inch. It was a lot to maintain sometimes. Swinging his legs onto the ground he pulled on his boots and peeled himself out of his union suit, tossing it onto his bed to remind him to wash it later. Arthur pulled on a pair of jeans and a simple white shirt to button up, foregoing underwear. The less clothes he wore in this sort of weather the better.

After a quick trim of his facial hair, Arthur thoroughly washed himself in a bucket of water someone had filled close to the scout campfire. Water dripped down his chin and dampened his shirt collar as he braced his hands on the sides of the bucket then cast his eyes around the camp. The others were already milling around, doing various chores or else being drunk idiots. Uncle had gotten hold of the banjo and was strumming it by the fire idly. He could see Charles chopping wood on the far side of camp and Dutch reading down the side of his tent. Kieran sat by the horses on a stump with a saddle in his lap, giving it a good cleaning. Arthur hadn’t liked him at first but he’ll admit the kid did have guts and a good work ethic if nothing else. For a few precious seconds in the day he got to look upon his family and think ‘Yeah. We may be idiots but we’re doing alright.’ And sometimes that made a difference to his mood.

Across the camp Arthur’s pale blue’s eventually landed on Riley as she stood with her back to him. It looked like she was just getting up for the day, because he’d managed to catch her midway through changing into a fresh shirt. His eyes lingered on the expanse of her back, paler than the skin that saw the sun every day. The curve of her spine lead upwards to the slender stretch of her neck where wisps of hair gathered with sweat and stuck to her skin. She pulled a shirt down over her body quickly, professionally, and Arthur blinked away and bit his lip like a child who’d been caught doing something mischievous. He cleared his throat and went back to his bedroll to find a hat and shoved it on his head. He should have looked away, that wasn’t the right thing for him to do. But damn… His fingers itched to draw what he’d only momentarily seen. Biting back the urge, Arthur went about attempting to find a chore for the day.

Pearson needed help chopping vegetables but the last time Arthur tried that (almost two years ago) he’d nearly cut off his middle finger. The chickens needed feeding but Sadie was already hauling the sack of seed over her shoulder. He made his way to the wagons that stored the hay for the horses and the sacks of grain for the chuckwagon but found them empty. Arthur stood with one hand on his hip and the other scratching at his freshly trimmed beard. Damn. Nothing left to do.

He decided that maybe he could make use of his time by doing a few ‘errands’ for Strauss that he’d been putting off when he walked into a conversation he hadn’t intended to hear.

“Come on, Pearson, ANYTHING but rabbit stew again!” Mary-Beth whined as she picked up a knife and began to chop up the wild carrots.

“You’re acting like I have a choice! I cook what I get. You want venison? Go ask Arthur! Hell, we’re running low on everything so maybe one of you girls better get down to Rhodes and get me some more supplies anyway.” Pearson seemed disgruntled, as usual whenever anyone criticised his cooking and slammed his butcher’s knife down on the neck of the poor rabbit on his table.

“But I want fish!” Mary-Beth said, whimsically. “Cooked fish on the fire, with salt and pepper and some fresh herbs… Oh, Pearson, could you make us fish for dinner instead?” Arthur could see the way Mary-Beth worked. She’d come around the table, hands clasped to her chest to give Pearson the full effect of her puppy dog eyes. He wasn’t ashamed to say that those eyes had worked once or twice on himself before, so Pearson was no match. Poor man.

Pearson visibly deflated when up against such a stare. He sighed, turned to face Mary-Beth, and held up his bloody hands in apology. Arthur began to walk by, hopefully avoiding detection-

“It ain’t as easy as that, I have to cook I haven’t got time to fish… Arthur!”

Dammit. Caught. Arthur skulked over to Pearson with his hands on his belt buckle, taking his time because he knew what was coming.

“Arthur, bring me something soon, we’re running low! Maybe some fish… I think the ladies are getting sick of rabbit.” Pearson said, wiping his bloodied hands on his apron.

“Aw, c’mon… I put my heart and soul into that rabbit, least you could do is eat it.” Arthur said to Mary-Beth, with a pretend pout. She rolled her eyes and went back to chopping vegetables with a whispered curse on her lips.

“We’re running low on meat anyway, Arthur. It’s probably time you went hunting again anyhow.”

“…Sure. I’ll see about what I can get.” Arthur sighed and scratched the back of his neck. Strauss’ errands would have to wait. Oh, what a crying shame.

A brilliant thought occurred to Arthur just then. Something so excellent it had to have been thought for him by someone else. He strode back to his own bedroll and began packing a few things into his satchel. A couple of pieces of bait, a bottle of whiskey maybe, a pack of cigarettes… Everything else would be on his horse, and he was pretty sure he still had some dried meat on there as well. A short fishing trip sounded good, but a fishing trip with Riley Jameson sounded better. Now all he had to do was ask her and suddenly his lungs were filled with flowers and he choked on his own breath.

The day before ran through his mind like a freight train. He remembered the way she plastered herself to his body, fitting like a puzzle piece. The way her hands roamed his chest and clung on for dear life to his coat. He remembered the little sounds she made when his fingers grazed under her shirt against the soft skin below. He also remembered the thrill being cut short by the sound of a gunshot and a loud curse from nearby. Turned out a hunter had missed a shot on a buck and sent the scared animal their way, spooking the horses. After a few minutes of chasing them down the moment had passed and they’d both rode back to camp together with secret smiles on their lips.

Arthur strolled over to Riley as casually as he could, one hand on his belt buckle and the other on his bandolier. She sat at the round table, a book in one hand and an apple in the other, and her eyes seemed to light up when he cleared his throat. Maybe that was wishful thinking.

“Miss Jameson.” Arthur greeted her with a nod of his head, but Riley rolled her eyes. Was he being too formal?

“Mr Morgan.” She said, mocking his tone. Arthur huffed a short laugh and rubbed at his chin nervously. Yeah, too formal.

“Was wonderin’ if you’d come fishin’ with me. I ain’t much of a fisherman but Pearson’s been whinin’ about food so… Figured you an’ I could go see what’s bitin’.” Riley took a bite of the apple again, juice on her lips glistening in the sun. Arthur squashed wicked thoughts before they could surface.

She seemed to take her time considering and was finished with the apple by the time she stood up and left her book and the core where she’d been sitting.

“Sure. But I don’t have the faintest idea how to fish and I ain’t got a rod of my own so…” She shrugged, smiling sheepishly.

“That’s fine I can show you! An’ m’pretty sure Hosea will have a spare rod floatin’ around. Man loves his fishin’.”

Riley slipped her weight onto one leg and hummed, hands on her hips as she looked him over. Arthur could see the way his own hand would sketch that pose, and his fingers twitched once more.

“Let’s go see if Hosea has a rod for me, then.” Riley finally said, picking up her hat from where it lay on the table. She pushed it over her hair, which lay loose around her shoulders in dark rivets. It wasn’t often she let her hair just hang like that, and Arthur found he liked it very much.

After a short conversation with Hosea and a ten-minute wait for Riley to get herself ready to ride out, they both were on their way to a little fishing spot Javier had shown Arthur some time ago. It was a small pool in the woodlands, not too far from camp but too far to walk, so they took the horses for convenience.

They rode in relative peace through the roads of Lemoyne; Birds tweeting as they cut off the main path and down a small hill between the trees. Riley followed Arthur as he slowed his horse, and dismounted just as they were peeking through the woodland. Between the trees lay a secret river bend framed with rocks and shrubbery. When Arthur had first come here he’d wanted to sketch it, and he still hadn’t had the opportunity to do so. The river trickled along its path, carving lines through the mud and silt to create illusions below the surface.

“Pretty country.” Riley said, holding her borrowed rod over her shoulder like a shotgun. Funny, Javier had said the same thing when they’d gone fishing not five days prior.

With a small nod and a grunt, Arthur trekked up the rocky outcrop until he stood leaning over the river’s bend to check from above what they might be catching. Smallmouth Bass swam around between the reeds under the water, dancing with one another as they swirled through the river. Arthur smiled in satisfaction and climbed back down to where Riley stood admiring a plant by the river’s edge.

“Lotsa Smallmouth here. Me n’ Javier came a couple days ago. He’s a fine fisherman; me not so much but… Whatcha find there?” He asked as he came closer to inspect the plant.

“Hummingbird sage.” Riley said as she pulled a tuft off the plant to stuff in her satchel. “My father showed me how to mix it with Ginseng and Indian tobacco to make a real potent medicine.”

Oddly, Arthur found that this was the first time he’d heard any sort of information about Riley’s family. He bent down to look at the plant, and picked some for himself, hoping she’d maybe continue the conversation. He was delighted when she did.

“My daddy taught me all kinds of useful things, actually. He taught me how to ride my first horse when I was 9. I fell off and hit my head on a rock but he whipped up some of that medicine and I felt better real quick. I used to call him a magic man.” Smiling fondly, Riley turned to look at Arthur with fond memories behind the glass of her eyes. Arthur hummed but found himself fidgeting a little with the plant in his hands. He wasn’t so good with words or moments like these.

“Sounds like a fine feller.” He said, standing up. God damn it, what a boring thing to say. Arthur mentally slapped himself.

“He was.” Riley said, softly as she rose to stand by the water with him. “So, how do I fish? Just throw this in and hope for the best?” She said, aiming her rod like a sword at the river.

Arthur snorted, grabbing hold of her rod to keep it steady. “Easy, easy. You’re not wrong but there’s a lil’ more to it than that. First you gotta bait your hook. Like this…”

The next fifteen minutes Arthur spent showing Riley how to set up her rod. He pulled a small tin of worms from his pocket, which she made a face at, and showed her how to hook them so that they still wiggled. He gave her instruction on how to cast the rod back and over her shoulder, not so far to hook on the plants and reeds on the other bank but just enough to reach the sweet spot of fish in the middle of the pool. He waited with her whilst the fish pondered the bait, one hand hovering over her own, whilst his other lay firm on her shoulder. She had a look of determination on her face that Arthur admired, especially so close up. Fine wrinkles littered her skin around her eyes and mouth, her lashes framing them like dandelions. Her brows were furrowed together as she concentrated on the task, watching the tip of her rod dip gently as the fish inspected her alluring worm. The rod tugged once. Twice. A third time and Arthur helped her yank it upwards to hook the fish. Now for the fun part.

“Alright, I’mma let you take it from here. Remember what I told you. Don’t fight him, just reel him in when you feel him go quiet. Nice an’ easy does it…” Arthur stood to the side, watching the fish in the water with his hands on his knees. Riley did well. She reeled when he told her too and paused whenever the fish struggled. It didn’t seem to be a huge one, but it certainly wasn’t small either. Arthur was glad he’d thought to bring along a sack for their takes.

A good five minutes into the fight and the fish was close to the shoreline. Arthur dropped his hand on the line, pulling as Riley reeled to pull the fish closer until he could pluck it from the water with his bare hands. He held the fish up triumphantly, presenting it to Riley with a grin on his face.

“I got it! Don’t drop him!” She exclaimed, dropping her rod in the mud.

“He’s a beauty!” Arthur laughed, sharing her enthusiasm as Riley unhooked the fish. He held onto it tight as Riley grabbed the sack for him to deposit the first fish of the day.

“Y’know what, fishin’ ain’t so bad!” She said, grinning from ear to ear like a fool. Arthur’s heart clenched a little. “I think I got it. Pearson’s not gonna know what hit him.” Riley cast Arthur a devilish look and he nearly lost his breath. She looked good like that, stood boot deep in the mud with her hair wild around her shoulders and excitement in her eyes. He couldn’t help the red that raised in his cheeks whenever he looked at her like this.

Clearing his throat, Arthur gave Riley her own tin of worms and went a few paces down the bank to try and find a sport for himself to fish. As much as he’d liked the idea of fishing together, sometimes it did get a little boring when fish just didn’t bite. Arthur had no luck what so ever. At one point he had a bite and pulled to hook the fish, but the entire damn line snapped instead causing Riley to snort with laughter. When he looked over at her with squinted eyes, she stood wearing a frown, staring hard at the water pretending to be focused on her own task rather than his fuck up. They continued like this for a little while, Riley pulling in two more fish to Arthur’s single pickerel that he threw back into the river. He’d given up after the second hour of fishing, already tired of the sport, and sat himself down at the base of a tree close to where Riley was stood. He pulled his hat off and set it on the ground so he could sit with his head back against the tree, one knee up with his arm resting on it.

He had a fine view of the girl from here. She cast her line like she’d been fishing all her life, and the intensity of her concentrating eyes made Arthur truly believe she knew exactly what she was doing. Maybe she did? Maybe she was already a good fisherman and had pretended not to know just to spend time with him. Arthur banished the thought as childish and absentmindedly took out his journal. He wrote a few lines about fishing before his hand wandered to a clean page to draw. The figure blossomed into a woman within minutes, details coming in different areas as he erratically chose which area to focus on. The line of his pencil followed the line of his eye as he watched her, standing there with her feet apart and her hands clasping the rod.

“You go fishing often, Arthur?” Riley asked after a little while, breaking him from his daydreaming sketch. He shrugged, paying more attention to the way Riley’s shoulders squared when the tip of her rod twitched.

“Seems to be more often nowadays. I took lil’ Jack fishin’ back at the old camp before we had to run. Kid didn’t seem to take to it, but he’s only 4.” The way her shirt hung off her, tucked into her jeans and folded over neatly.

“My younger brother had a real way with animals,” Riley said, still facing the river. “He helped a sheep birth her first lamb when he was just 8. My daddy said he had something in him that made him good with all of god’s creatures. Actually, I remember one time when I was fifteen and he was 13. We lost our daddy a few years before and Adam never really got over it. I found him in the barn talkin’ all sweet to one of the new horses we couldn’t break. He was pettin’ her on the nose and whispering soft and soothing things about how she was alright and that he weren’t there to hurt her none. Calmed that horse down faster than me or my ma could. Hell, even my older brother couldn’t calm that damn horse but Adam? He took to her. I guess she did too ‘cause she never let anyone ride her but him.” Riley laughed at the fond memory and Arthur soaked it all in whilst drawing. A short silence followed and he realised he’d probably have to contribute to the conversation to keep it going.

“My daddy never taught me nothin’. Was glad when he died. Dutch and Hosea taught me all I know…” He went on for a little while, talking of times when the three of them had gone fishing together and how Hosea had bought him his first rod when he was just 15. He felt comfortable like this, just speaking with Riley and telling her about his past and the good old days with the gang. They laughed together when he told her about the time he’d bought three big fish claiming he’d caught them himself, and after celebrating he’d been ousted by the fisherman who’d sold them to him the very next day in town. He’d never been so mortified. Luckily his embarrassment seemed to cause Riley a great deal of entertainment.

A couple of hours passed by and the sun began to set. Arthur had put a lot of effort into the sketch on the page, and he was strangely proud of it. Graphite covered his right hand where he’d smudged certain areas, and the ‘clean’ page opposite the drawing was littered with thumbprints and smears. Riley, having caught a total of six fish to Arthur’s zero, happily sat herself next to him on the ground. He closed the book quietly and tucked it away safely in his satchel before she could see the sketch. Thankfully she was busy pulling out a full bottle of whiskey from her own satchel. She bit off the cork and took a swig, offering Arthur the bottle, which he gladly accepted.

“I lost my daddy to sickness when I was 15.” She said, suddenly. Arthur turned his head to listen, passing back the whiskey. “He got real sick in the winter and it took him so quickly we just… Didn’t know what to do with ourselves or the ranch. My Ma really stepped up. We all shared the work before daddy passed so we knew what was needed to be done but… none of it was the same when he died. Never was. My brother Adrian, he got angry. Used to get into fights in the saloon when people would bad-mouth our Pa and one day he came home with a busted nose, all covered in blood… Our Ma nearly killed him with the words she used. Said he was a disgrace and that daddy woulda’ been ashamed. I think it hit him where it needed, ‘cause after that he became the man of the house. Began raisin’ me and my brother with my Ma, found himself work outside of the ranch to keep us goin’, hell he even found himself a girl he was sweet on. Woulda’ married her too if it weren’t for…”

Riley trailed off, bringing the whiskey to her lips. She’d closed her eyes and the shadows of the evening light cast across her face in strange shapes. Arthur waited. This kind of thing needed time. Sometimes it was hard to get out the words you needed to say to really get something off your chest.

“I was 18 when O’Driscoll scum came n’ burned down my home and my family. Men came into my house, shot my mother and my brother in cold blood. I took Adam out the back and we tried to run but… he got caught. I watched them beat him to death whilst I hid. I watched them take away everything my family and I had built. Everything my daddy did for us, burning. All for… shit, I still don’t know why. Fun, I guess.” Bitterly she swigged the bottle again, handing it back to Arthur.

He felt a tight sensation in his throat as she spoke with such restrained emotion. It was almost like she’d never told a living soul of the events of that night. He could see the way her eyes were unfocused, lost in the horrible memories of fire and laughter and screams. Her jaw clenched tightly, and her hands had balled into fists in her lap. Arthur sighed and shook his head.

“Them’s bad men.” He grumbled, taking a mouthful of whiskey and letting it singe his throat. “We run into them a few times. Colm, their leader, he killed Dutch’s girl a while ago now. Don’t think he ever got over it, and damn why should he? O’Driscoll’s been takin’ from us since I damn well joined Dutch. They ain’t good people. I’m… I’m sorry they took your family from you.” Arthur took his pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and stuck one between his lips. He struck a match on the bottom of his boot and lit it, shaking the match and tossing it into the water when he was done. He took a long drag before offering the smoke to Riley, who gladly accepted it and breathed it in eagerly. She seemed to relax a little, less tense than before her admission.

“Ain’t all bad I suppose. If I’d stayed on a ranch my whole life I can’t imagine I’d be where I am right now. A real badass outlaw runnin’ with a gang of wanted men, robbin’ trains an’ such.” Riley huffed a small and laugh. “An’ I wouldn’ta met you.”

Arthur felt vines constrict around his stomach, rising up into his lungs. “I ain’t much of a man people want to meet.” He said with a quick laugh, accepting another mouthful of whiskey. It began to make his stomach feel warm, so he passed it back to Riley in trade for the cigarette. “Most people run the opposite way.”

“Can’t see why, I mean you’re clearly an upstandin’ citizen after all.” Riley teased, and Arthur cast her a look through a playful frown.

“You tellin’ me I ain’t upstandin’?” He asked.

“Uh huh. I mean a man with a bounty on his head don’t usually scream ‘upstanding’ to me. But then again upstandin’s boring. Who’d want boring? I prefer exciting. I like a man that can thrill me.” Riley grinned, taking another long drink from the welcome distraction of the bottle before placing it on the ground. Arthur openly stared at her, his eyes darkening as he stubbed out the cigarette. When he looked back up she’d shifted closer than before.

“I ain’t full o’ many thrills a good girl like you should want.” He said gruffly, eyes flicking from her mouth to her jaw, the arch of her brow, the devilish glint in her eyes.

“Who says I’m good?” She retorted, twisting to face him, her hands pressed into the ground. She was so close Arthur could feel her breath on his skin.

“Darlin’ I come with a warnin’ for girls like you…” He breathed, shaking his head. A girl like her shouldn’t be after a man like him. It wasn’t the way the world worked. “I’m a wanted man, I killed folk.”

“So have I.”

“Doubt you’ve sinned more than I have.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Darlin’ I ain’t-“

_“Just fucking kiss me-“_

Arthur cut her off quickly, lips pressed urgently against hers. His heart pounded in his chest as those same vines in his lungs rose up to wrap around the pulsing muscle. The bottle clanked onto the ground as Riley rose up onto her knees, shifting to get better leverage to wind her arms around his neck and thread her fingers into his hair. He liked that. He liked that a lot. Arthur let her know by quickly gripping her waist in both his hands, dragging her into his lap without much thought. It was a bold move and for a split second he thought she might stop, but instead she laughed against his mouth and nipped at his lower lip. He growled below her, fingers pressing insistently into her hips.

Arthur had seen most of the girls in camp undressed or partially dressed at some point or another. Especially Karen. When he was a younger man he’d seen those girls and been unable to control his body, but as he’d grown the practice came with wisdom and resistance. Now he could look upon the girls in the camp without reaction, without blood rushing from his brain to his lower half. All of that was out of the window now. Never before had he been so viciously attacked by his own sinful thoughts and scenarios as he did now with a woman that sat fully clothed in his lap. His breath came quicker and his hands worked quickly under her shirt to untuck it from her jeans. His palm felt the expanse of her back, so contrasting to his own that was littered with scars.

Above him Riley gave an appreciative sigh against his lips and slipped her knees either side of his waist, bringing them closer together. She was a warm weight above him as her hands left his hair and travelled down to his shirt. She unbuttoned the first few buttons quickly, and when Arthur pressed his fingers into the skin on her stomach he could feel her pulse beating like the hooves of a racing horse. She was soft, so much softer than his rough hands were deserving of. He felt like a wish had fallen into his lap, something so rare and delicious he couldn’t help the way his body reacted. Beneath the constraints of his jeans, he stiffened, especially when Riley’s deft fingers finished with his shirt and moved to trail down his chest followed by her lips. He gasped, cursed, and let his head fall back against the tree with a dull thud. Her mouth worked like the devil against his neck and collar, peppering kisses and little bites that she soothed with her tongue. Her hands travelled to his belt, gripping it as she sank her teeth into a particularly tender spot between his shoulder and neck. Arthur’s hands shot to her ass, squeezing as he pulled her down against his crotch desperately. God, he needed her to know what effect she had on him.

A little whine escaped her lips as he pushed upwards, and he was met with her hips working down on his in slow grinding motions. He appreciated that a lot. Damn, this woman…

Arthur was about to drag her up to his mouth once again when he heard the chatter of men and froze. Someone was walking along the road with a few others from what he could hear, men that had been drinking by the sounds of it. Both of them stopped their movements, chests heaving as they gasped for silent breaths and clutched at one another tightly. The darkness was settling in now and someone on the road lit a lamp to light their way. Arthur felt a little bit of Déjà Vu over the whole situation, especially when Riley stood up from his lap to pull him up from the ground. He missed the warmth of her immediately.

“Follow me,” She whispered, and if Arthur wasn’t already hers he was in that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so pleased that you all like my fic so much! I've had such lovely comments and they only spur me on to write more. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, the next one will get a little steamy.


	15. Glitter and Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the chapter y'all been wanting.
> 
> \- Glitter and Gold by Barns Courtney - 
> 
> 'Do you walk in the meadow of spring?  
> Do you talk to the animals?  
> Do you hold their lives from a string?  
> Do you ponder the manner of things  
> In the dark  
> The dark, the dark, the dark'

Riley cast him a teasing grin as she grabbed hold of his hand, dragging him further into the woods and away from the road. Away from eyes that might catch a glimpse of something precious, new, and exciting. After a few paces, she dropped his hand and skipped off deftly between the trees. Arthur chased after her; she could hear him just inches behind her as she raced through the trees to a more secluded spot. When she turned around again he was on her like a wolf on a deer, a growl on his lips and his hands pawing at her shirt. She grinned, pleased with the effect she’d had on him, and felt him back her up against a tree. He held her tightly in place with his entire body, one hand on her thigh pulling it up and around his hip whilst the other hand slid under her shirt and over her stomach.

Riley let out a soft hum as Arthur claimed her mouth with soft, dry lips. She could taste the whiskey on his tongue when he delved into her mouth, taking what he could and dominating the kiss. She let him, it was exhilarating. He chased the air from her lungs until she had to pull away, but that seemed to just divert his attention elsewhere. Arthur’s hands were all over her, touching and caressing and squeezing just right. She arched into his touch when one of his hands found her breast beneath her shirt, coaxing small gasps from her lips with as simple a touch as brushing his thumb over her nipple. His mouth had found new area to explore in the expanse of her neck. The rough brush of his beard against her skin left a delicious sting. She hummed appreciatively as he tasted every inch of skin exposed to him, but when his hand moved to the buttons of her shirt she changed tactics.

With her hand wrapped around his wrist, Riley dragged it down from her chest, past where her belt buckle began and guided him to where she wanted him. Arthur hummed approvingly and was quick to work with this new information. He palmed her through her jeans, nails scratching against the fabric to create a delicious vibration that sent shivers down her spine. Her own nails dug into his shoulder and forearm, urging him to continue as she dragged him back up by the jaw for another searing kiss.

Riley wanted nothing more than to strip the man before her so she can see what she was working with, but she’d take what she could get right now. She wanted to slow him down but his enthusiasm was catching and soon she forgot her entire plan of action as his hand slid down the front of her jeans. Riley gasped as the rough pads of his fingers worked between her thighs, touching and testing the limits of this new boundary. She groaned encouragingly as he pulled his lips from hers and once again began a brave assault on her neck.

Arthur’s fingers were cold at first but slowly adjusted to her body temperature. He was exploring, first pressing the flat of his palm against her and grinding slowly. She hissed, her body hitching up against the tree ever so slightly as Arthur held on tightly to her knee to keep it at his hip. Riley’s fingers danced into his hair, knotting in what little length there was. His fingers delved further, pushing between her folds into the heat between. She gasped as he slowly dragged his fingers either side of her clit, up and down in gentle come-hither motions that had her tensing and rocking to his motions. This man, this _man_ knew exactly what he was doing. Riley wondered what wealth of experience he had but the thought was cut short as he so plainly put that knowledge to good use.

With a well-timed bite to her collarbone that was sure to leave a mark, Arthur’s fingers shifted until the tip of his index finger circled her entrance slowly. His touch was so enticing and she was already so on edge that he could have whispered sweet nothings and she’d fall apart willingly. She hadn’t expected this at all. The tip of his finger pulsed in and out of her slowly but that too didn’t last for long before he slid it in entirely. She groaned into his ear, a breathy sound that earned her another bite. Slowly he worked his finger inside of her before adding another and making that same come hither motion as before. She felt sweat roll down from her hairline down her neck, plastering her hair to her face wherever it touched. Arthur shifted his hand once more, pushing the heel of his hand against her clit and circling slowly. The pressure was incredible, something she’d never felt from another man. What started as a rough and ready fuck against a tree was turning into the single most sensual moment in her sexual life.

Arthur kissed his way back up to her lips and gave them a short kiss before travelling to her ear.

“You don’t know what you do to me, do you?” He rumbled, voice like thunder.

Riley was too far gone for conversations when his thumb rose to take the place of his palm, gently circling her clit without much pressure. Something was building in her stomach, and she held on tighter to his forearm, edging him on with gentle sounds of encouragement.

“You sound real pretty like that, y’know… All hot just for me, you feel like _fire_.” He breathed the words and Riley closed her eyes, letting the sounds wash over her. He pressed his thumb a little firmer now, rubbing faster, circling, working towards the end goal.

“Got me all worked up ‘cause yer a _vixen_ , an’ I am so god damn _weak_ for you.” Riley cried out into the darkness, muffling her sounds into his shoulder least anyone hear them. The white-hot flashes of pleasure rolled through her entire body, lighting her nerves up like the stars in the night sky. The hairs on her arms stood on end as she ground her hips against his hand, working to chase the last few spasms of pleasure before they eventually fizzled out. Oversensitive, she hissed, and Arthur withdrew his hand to wipe clean against his jeans.

He pulled her up by a finger on her chin into a lazy kiss, his tongue soothing hers as she languidly sank against his chest. Her hand smoothed down the hair at the nape of his neck as it travelled to his chest, heaving to match the pace of her own. Riley smiled against his lips and lowered her leg back to the ground. She could still feel the length of him pressed against her hip, hot and heavy through his jeans but he wasn’t insistent with it. He let her bask in her aftermath, not once demanding the attention to himself.

“Your turn.” She whispered, a sly smile returning to her lips once her mind had caught back up to the present day. Arthur smiled but shook his head.

“You don’t have ta’.” He said, but as he made a move to pull away Riley gipped the buckle of his belt firmly and hauled him back.

“I wouldn’t leave you wantin’ like that.” She said, dipping her head to press gentle kisses to his jawline. She reached his ear, her hands deftly undoing his belt before sliding into his jeans. Slowly she traced her tongue around the shell of his ear and pressed a gentle kiss to his jaw once more. “Seems cruel not to give as good as I got.”

Arthur grunted as she took him in hand, the softness of his cock a firm weight in her hand. At this angle, she couldn’t quite get a proper grip on him, but judging by the way he was already rocking against her hand he was already extremely worked up. Riley smiled, one hand moving to firmly grip his upper arm as he tucked his face into the crook of her neck. He panted softly, already lost for words as she slowly drew her thumb over the tip of his cock in slow figure of eight motions. Arthur groaned, the sound muffled by her shirt, and it only spurred her on. His hands balled into fists, one tangled in her shirt at the base of her spine and the other resting on the bark of the tree they were pressed against. She worked him in time to his erratic thrusts, bringing him closer to the edge as she whispered encouragement into his ear.

“D-Darlin’ I’m-“ Arthur’s stuttered words died on his tongue and turned into an almost animalistic sound as he came into her palm. She worked him through it, pressing kisses to the side of his head as he drove his hips weakly into her hand. When he was finished, softening in her grasp, she slowly removed her hand and cleaned it against the tree bark and then her own jeans. Arthur pulled back to look at her, adoration in his blissed-out eyes. Riley sure fucking loved to see that.

“I enjoyed going fishin’ with you, Arthur.” Riley said, a stupid grin plastered on her lips. Arthur snorted and laughed against his own arm that kept him upright against the tree. Riley couldn’t help but laugh, full-blown giggles erupting from her as they stood together in the dark.

“We should be headed back… I’m starvin’.” Arthur said as he began to buckle his jeans back up. Riley did the same and followed him back to the river bend, thankful that their things were still there. After packing up and riding back to camp they went their separate ways, but Riley didn’t sleep much thinking on the way he’d touched her and the sweet words he’d whispered. She wondered, idly, if he was suffering the same thoughts across the camp in his own bed.

-

For a few days, Riley noticed a subtle difference in the camp. Nobody knew about their fishing trip escapades. As far as they were concerned they’d fished up supper and that was it. Riley didn’t even tell Abigail or Mary-Beth, the secret felt like a tiny fire in her hands that would extinguish if too many breaths crowded it. She cradled that secret flame, knowing full well Arthur held one similar.

They hardly had a chance to speak whenever they were both at home. There was always something to do, someone to please, a job to take. Riley found herself going out on more and more jobs with the men, especially Javier and John. The three of them had pretty much perfected the ‘Get help, my wife is dying!’ routine. They brought in enough money to keep the camp stable whilst Arthur, Dutch and Hosea worked the local law. The day Arthur came home with that badge on his chest she’d laughed so hard she could hardly breathe and spent the entirety of the night poking fun at his expense. It was worth it whenever those ocean eyes looked her way, meeting hers with something akin to joy bathing within them.

Whatever it was that Riley and Arthur had right now, she didn’t fully understand. She didn’t realize why he made her heart clench whenever he looked her way, or the very subtle touch of his hand on her lower back as he passed by her on his way to his horse made her stomach twist.

They were well into their second week at Clemens Point when Riley, John and Lenny rode out towards Van Horne with a plan in mind to rob the side business in the gunsmiths. John had been doing his recon about the place for a while, learning what he could from the local saloon until he thought he had all the information he needed. He’d asked Riley to join him, and Lenny as an extra gun. The day before they’d rode up North and stayed the night in a camp just outside of town to keep a low profile. It was just before dawn when they rode into town, Riley with her hair down and her hat abandoned on her horse, a lone pistol hidden in the waistband of her jeans to otherwise appear unarmed. She rode in alongside John and together they walked into the gunsmiths under the pretence of purchasing a gun.

“My wife here wants to learn to shoot,” John said, awkwardly placing a hand on Riley’s shoulder. She groaned internally and pressed herself to his side. At least damn well make it believable. This part he did struggle with.

“Well now…” The gunsmith began, “Lady’s first weapon, huh? Well, take a look at the catalogue here. I can recommend a few if ye’d like.” The man lit a cigarette, unbeknownst to what was happening in the back of his shop.

By now Lenny should have found his way through the back door using the lock picking kit John had given him and should be rooting through the room for the money that John was certain was there. Instead, Riley heard the sound of a window smashing. She and the Gunsmith locked eyes for a split second before she dramatically fell into John’s arms, a hand on her forehead.

John knew this part.

“Get help! My wife’s fainted!” He yelled at the gunsmith, who had been completely shocked away from the previous sound. John lowered Riley onto the ground and the Smith ran around the counter in a panic.

“What’s goin’ on? She alright?”

“Go get a doctor!” John all but yelled at him, pretending to stroke away hair from Riley’s face. Any job where she could take a short nap on the floor was a good job to her.

“We ain’t got one near here!” The smith replied, voice climbing higher.

“Well go find someone who knows what the fuck to do, then!” John shouted, making a show of checking Riley’s temperature and breathing. For effect she gave a few whines and whimpers, clutching at her stomach.

“Okay! Okay! Shit- alright wait here!” The Smith shot from the shop in a panic, and the second the door was shut Riley cracked open an eye and leapt up from the ground.

“Gone?” She asked, rushing around the counter to slam cash register open with her elbow.

“You got a minute if that.” John stood by the window, keeping an eye out. What the fuck was Lenny doing in the back that caused so much noise?

Suddenly the door to the back of the shop flew open and Lenny rushed in, saddlebags full over his shoulder.

“The fuck happened?” John asked him, visibly angry.

“Door was bolted on the inside! I came through the window instead.” Lenny replied, “Figured you two could handle it, looks like you did.”

“Christ- well grab some of these guns at least. Jameson, you got anything good?” John began throwing pistols into a sack he’d produced from his coat, sweeping ammunition off the shelves quickly.

“About five hundred, not too bad.” Riley said with a grin. She tucked the cash into her satchel before helping the boys grab the guns. She’d managed to pocket three new cattleman revolvers and was in the process of slinging a nice and shiny shotgun over her back when the door to the shop flew open.

In the doorway stood the Gunsmith and three lawmen behind him. Everyone froze, and Riley held up her hands.

“It’s not what it looks like.” She said, as the lawmen drew their weapons and began the fight. She swore, darted behind a table and kicked it down. Lenny shot for the back door where he hid against the wall, gun drawn. John was behind the counter, both men just inches away from freedom.

Bullets and curses filled the air, mostly from the gunsmith who’d only now realised what a fool he’d been.

Riley counted the bullets, waited for the pause, and lurched up with the new shotgun pointed at one of the lawmen. She fired, the gun clicked, their eyes met for a brief second as she realised it was empty.

“Fuck!” Narrowly missing a bullet to the head, Riley ducked down behind the table again, catching John’s eyes for a second. He nodded, she nodded, and the next second she was diving behind the counter as John covered her, firing two weapons at once.

A white-hot pain sliced through her right shoulder as she crashed to the floor behind John. He swore, reloading his guns as Lenny took over the covering fire. Riley lay on her side clutching her shoulder, a stream of curse words falling from her lips that would put a blush on a sailor's cheeks. John dropped to her side, hooking her arm over his shoulder to help her to her feet. They crouched, waiting for the pause in the gunfire before running to the back door with Lenny covering them. Riley held her pistol in her hand, the one she knew was loaded because she’d loaded it herself, and fired haphazardly behind herself as John all but dragged her out of the shop. Lenny slammed the door shut, barricading it with a table as John set her against the wall.

Pressing a hand against the wound and pulling back, Riley was shocked to see the bright red glistening on her hand. Who’d have thought gun wounds bled so much? The lawmen were yelling from behind the door, pounding at it with their shoulders to try and gain entry. Lenny held it closed with his shoulder against the table.

John peered through the window, whistling for the horses as he began to climb out. “We gotta go! Lenny, help her out!”

She felt her arm go numb when it was tugged around the young man’s neck. He pulled her to her feet and to the window, helping her climb through as John caught her from the short drop to the ground. Without him, she’d have landed like a tone of bricks. Her head was starting to feel fuzzy. She didn’t quite feel pain like she’d thought, but she was acutly aware of every shift of her shirt against her shoulder.

Her hand stayed firmly latched around the wound, applying pressure and bunching her shirt around it to try and staunch the bleeding. Trigger came trotting around the corner of the building, closely followed by the law as they found cover behind old barrels and crates. John helped her onto her horse, and she gripped the reigns tightly in her right hand as he slapped Trigger’s behind to make her bolt. A bullet whizzed through the air by her cheek, far too close for comfort. She dropped low on her horse and rode for dear life out of Van Horne, Lenny and John close behind her firing their weapons as they made their escape.

Riley’s eyes closed for a moment and when she opened them again it was to see her hands drenched in her own blood that dripped like syrup onto the white of her horse. She muttered an apology to the poor girl, but urged her on into the woodlands and away from the small town. Lenny rode up beside her and he was saying something she couldn’t quite catch through the drumming in her ears. Her teeth grit shut, and the pain slowly started to make itself known as the adrenaline and shock wore off.

Fire raged in her shoulder every time her horse galloped, the jolting causing her to pale significantly. She felt sick, she felt hot, and sweat rolled down her back in rivets as they sped up their escape.

They were close to Emerald Ranch by the time John forced her to stop. She was gasping for breath when she drew Trigger to a halt, hunched over on her horse and covered in sticky black blood. Sliding out of the saddle she was guided to a spot in the woods by Lenny and sat on a fallen tree. Almost immediately she slipped down onto the ground, using it as a backrest instead. John handed her a bottle of whiskey which she began taking gulps from like a dying woman in a desert. At least the drink would numb some of the pain, that’s what she needed right now. They kept asking her questions but she wasn’t listening, she was too focused on keeping her insides exactly where they were supposed to be. Inside.

The boys set up camp around her, and soon the roar of a fire warmed the coldness in her fingers. She’d almost drank a third of the whiskey when Lenny sat beside her, saying something about getting the bullet out or maybe it was something about taking the mullet to town, she didn’t know.

John crouched by the fire with something in his hand, turning it over and over in the flames that glistened orange and yellow as the sky grew darker. Lenny ripped the sleeve of her shirt off with the help of his pocketknife and pushed something between her teeth. She bit down on the leather belt, leaning against the log with one hand clenched in the grass and mud beneath her.

“It’s gonna hurt like hell, you’re gonna need to hold her.” John was speaking to Lenny quickly, and Riley caught a glimpse of the handle of a knife. Her eyes were watering, glazed from the whiskey and the sheer pain in her shoulder.

She gasped for breath through clenched teeth, damn well near biting through the thick leather as something white-hot touched her wound. She screamed through the belt, head thrown back as she fought away from the source of the pain.

Riley wasn’t sure what happened after that. Firm hands held her against the log as the devil's fingers searched through her shoulder. It felt like hours, days that the knife was searching when it suddenly left. The pain didn’t leave, the heat didn’t subside. Sweat gathered on her forehead, mixing with the blood on her shoulder as it travelled down her neck. The moment without something inside her wound was short-lived, as not even thirty seconds later something worse was forced against the majority of her shoulder. Skin sizzled, blood boiled, but the wound would ultimately be closed by the fire and heat. Tears mixed freely with the sweat on her cheeks. She cried out in pain but the fight was gone, exhaustion draping over her like the dark comfort of a blanket.

Distantly, from her hiding spot under the blanket darkness, she felt the cool press of a bottle against her lips. Whiskey or medicine, she didn’t care, she drank what she was given without argument and slipped into the blissful expanse of unconsciousness.

When Riley awoke next she was on a horse with someone riding behind her, keeping her upright with an arm around her waist. Her hands braced the pommel of the saddle. Her shoulder was still on fire, someone needed to help her put out the fire. She drifted again.

Her eyes cracked open as someone was helping her down from the horse. She was being carried somewhere and laid down on a bedroll of pelts and furs. She could hear voices and see shapes behind the blur of her vision, but the allure of sleep called to her again. She didn’t feel the water press to her lips or the gentleness of a hand stroking the hair from her forehead. She didn’t feel a thing under the blanket of unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter dedicated to Shelbee because you've been super supportive and I'm very thankful for your comments <3


	16. Wild Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Wild Heart by Mumford and Sons - 
> 
> 'I wouldn't have you any other way,   
> I don't want a love that makes sense anyway
> 
> It took a wild heart to tame mine  
> And it took a wild heart to charm  
> Now a wild heart has gone and floored me  
> With this everlasting glance  
> But this everlasting glance'

_Finally, we have achieved a state of true insanity. For the first time in my life, I’m a deputized lawman. We went off with some moronic dope Deputy, working for the alcohol drenched Sheriff Gray pursuing some moonshiners. Dutch is convinced this will somehow lead to riches beyond compare. Seems the one powerful local family, The Grays, ex Scots, is warring with another, proud English family, the Braithwaites like some long running dispute from the border country._

_Apparently there’s gold or women or something at the root of this, and if it’s gold, we want it._

_Either way we are so deep in the swamp and so entirely lost ourselves. I hope it will take the Pinkertons and their like a long while to find us. We shall see._

_In the meantime, a new career path in law seems to await. Seems like amongst our other perils a gang called “THE LEMOYNE RAIDERS” won't take too kindly to outsiders or anyone who ain’t living in the distant past._

_Jameson and I, well we seem to be getting along just fine. I took her fishing y_

The sentence Arthur was intently scrawling upon a fresh page in his journal abruptly stopped. The pencil and leather-bound paper lay forgotten in the mud alongside a large boot print that skidded to the side as if the wearer had suddenly moved. Cain rooted around Arthur’s wagon, the only movement nearby as he sniffed at the pages with disinterest.

Across the camp almost everyone was gathered around a pure white horse with bright red streams of blood dripping from its flank. Charles held onto her reins tightly, attempting to calm the mare as it neighed and whinnied anxiously. The rider was slumped in the seat of a different horse with John behind her. He was shouting, demanding Swanson and Miss Grimshaw’s attention to his wounded companion. Lenny was deathly pale as he helped unload the loot of their job, handing the saddlebags over to Dutch as he gave a debrief of what had happened.

Arthur didn’t hear any of it.

* * *

The second the sound of horses reached his ears he knew something was off. They didn’t sound happy, as horses usually do. There was fear in them. He’d waited until the first rider came through the trees. It was Lenny, approaching the guard on duty, Karen, to inform her of what was to come. Arthur watched as she ran for Miss Grimshaw and Swanson, the only two people in their camp even remotely passable for medical intervention. He knew what this meant, and his stomach clenched uncomfortably.

_Please not her._

The next horse rode into camp with the third tethered to the back with rope. He spotted the bright white mare and her brilliantly red coat before he spotted _her_. She was slumped back against John who struggled to hold her in place on the horse and drive at the same time. Her hair was plastered to her face, which was dotted with blood and grime. Her entire right shoulder was bound in rags that were thoroughly wet with blood.

John called for help, and the camp seemed to snap into action. Arthur bolted across the grass towards his brother in arms, reaching to take hold of Riley’s waist and help John lower her down. She was unconscious and extremely pale, but her skin was so hot to the touch he swore it burnt him. There was no doubt she was unable to walk, so Arthur scooped her legs out from under her and quickly rushed to the wagon they used to store the medicine. Behind the crates lay a medical bed of furs and pelts for comfort. It wasn’t something they often used but Riley didn’t have a tent of her own, and this wound meant her shirt would have to come off. Arthur didn’t like the idea of certain camp members seeing her like that.

He laid her down on the bed carefully, stroking back her hair to try and get a better look at her face. She scorched like the sun wherever he touched. Distantly he heard someone yell that the reverend wasn’t in camp, but rather the Rhodes saloon getting shitfaced. Susan was by his side in an instant, her hands flitting between Riley’s face and the wound.

“She’s gettin’ a fever, what the hell did you boys do to her?!” Miss Grimshaw all but snarled at John, who held his hands up. They were covered in blood. Her blood.

“She got hit in the robbery. Ain’t much I coulda’ done. I think we managed to get the bullet out without makin’ it worse but when we tried sealin’ it shut…”

“You shouldn’t have tried!” Grimshaw was mad, Arthur could see it in her eyes. He felt anger rise in his own throat too but he swallowed it down. It wouldn’t help. Not while she was like this. His eyes latched onto her closed ones, teeth clenched tight as he noticed the dark circles under her eyes. How long had they ridden for? How long had she been losing blood before they got back to camp?

Miss Grimshaw began to remove the bandages slowly, lifting Riley up by a gentle hand under her neck until the wound was visible. Arthur helped, gently taking the place of Susan’s hands until she was free to unravel with both her hands. She gasped, clenched her jaw, and turned on John like a bear on a rabbit. John was already halfway across the camp with Abigail at his heels before she could say another word.

The wound was deep and ugly and there was no exit wound like John had mentioned. The flesh was singed in several places as if they’d tried to seal it shut with something as stupid as a hot knife. The skin was red with more than just blood. But the wound didn’t go through, so the gun used couldn’t have been a powerful one. At least he had that to be thankful for.

“What do you need?” Arthur asked, sliding out of the wagon fully to go through the crates. They were woefully low on supplies. Damn it, who was supposed to refill them this week?

“Somethin’ to break the fever. Somethin’ for the pain. Somethin’ to fight infection, at least. And water and a rag, we need to get her cleaned up. Get me Tilly, Arthur!” He obeyed without a second thought. Quickly he grabbed the nearest piece of paper and a pencil, scribbling down what medicines he thought they could use, what herbs he knew would help, and what supplies they were running low on. He thrust the paper at Lenny, all but dragging the poor boy to his horse.

“Take this paper to the store in Rhodes, get all these things if you can and anything else you think will help. Take this too.” He thrust a billfold into Lenny’s hand, and the kid knew better than to say anything to him when he was like this. He rode off like a bat out of hell, spurring his horse onwards out of camp.

Arthur’s stomach did flips as he took long strides over to the chuckwagon. Pearson was staring at him dumbly, nothing to say when he had that look on his face. He grabbed a bucket from the wagon and all but jogged to the water's edge, trudging knee-deep to fill it up to the brim. On his way back he finally saw Tilly coming back from the woods with Mary-Beth. He hollered her over and explained the situation quickly.

“I got Lenny goin’ into town for supplies. You gotta help Miss Grimshaw with Jameson.” When Arthur spoke like this it didn’t leave room for argument. Tilly was quick to tighten her apron and rush over to the girl’s wagons where she rummaged around for supplies. When she was back by Arthur’s side she carried arms full of fresh cloth, supposedly old clothes that the girls were mending. It was all they had to make do with for bandages, he guessed.

Miss Grimshaw was elbow deep in blood and rags by the time Arthur got back. He felt the blood drain from his face but otherwise kept as cool an appearance as he possibly could. He set the bucket of water down on a crate and stood nervously, shifting from one foot to the other as he tried to get a look in to see what sort of state Jameson was in.

“Oh- Out of the way Arthur! I have a girls life to save here!” Miss Grimshaw snapped at him as she exited the wagon to retrieve the new cloth Tilly had brought. The younger girl cast him an apologetic look and climbed in beside her, ready to work under Grimshaw’s guidance.

He’d been banished from Riley’s side and he didn’t understand why that hurt so much. Like a disgraced dog, he slunk off to the round table to sit nervously jogging his leg up and down. He found himself craning to see into the wagon, this wasn’t the place to sit. After a few minutes, he stood and made his way back to his own bedroll, tried to busy himself with washing his hands of Riley’s blood and picking up his belongings off the floor. Distractions didn’t last for long. Eventually, he sat beside the fire facing the wagon, far enough away that he couldn’t be considered perverted for trying to stare at an injured naked woman, but close enough that he could just hear Miss Grimshaw when she spoke to Tilly.

It was an hour before Lenny arrived back in camp with canvas bags strapped to his horses back. He’d gone and bought the entire shop with the money that Arthur had given him, which in his panic had been a fair amount. The delivery was made; bottles and vials were exchanged between Tilly and Miss Grimshaw when she asked for them. The worst parts were when Tilly was made to empty the bowls of water out and fill them with clean water from the bucket. The grass behind the medical wagon was stained a shocking red.

Two hours later and Arthur hadn’t moved from his spot. At one point Lenny sat with him by the fire but he didn’t talk. Poor kid must not have known what to say or what to do. He simply handed Arthur a coin bag of his change. A measly ten dollars left from the near two hundred he’d given him. It was worth it if she survived.

Darkness came and with it came supper. Charles forced a bowl of stew into Arthur’s hand which he picked at, only occasionally taking his eyes off the wagon long enough to eat. It must have been a sight to see for on the third hour of his stationary watching he saw Hosea make his way to the medical wagon.

There was a short and hushed conversation between Hosea and Miss Grimshaw, a few nods shared and a gentle hand lay on her shoulder. He was about the only damn person in camp Miss Grimshaw wouldn’t screech at. The older man eventually made his way over to the large campfire to sit beside Arthur on a nearby crate. He grunted as he sat down, as older men often do, and poked at the fire with a long stick.

Hosea was silent for a short while, but Arthur figured it wouldn’t last.

“She’ll be alright.” He said, offhandedly. Arthur’s eyes pinned on him rapidly. “Susan says she’s lost a lot of blood but it doesn’t look like there’s going to be an infection or nasty business. We’ll have to see how she is in the morning, however. She’s going to need to rest now. Maybe you should see what Pearson wanted to talk to you and Dutch about. In the morning, though. Tonight… I can’t imagine anything I say will move you from this spot.”

Quiet slipped between them then, aside from the gentle crackle of the fire. Arthur looked back at the wagon, shoulders less tense than before.

“She’ll be alright, son.” Hosea said again, this time laying a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. He appreciated the gesture, closing his eyes as his head dropped towards the ground. He was all of a sudden extremely tired.

Hosea said so much without actually saying many words. Just like Dutch, he could comfort Arthur like he was a child afraid of the dark. He knew that this man, a father figure just the same as Dutch was, could see straight through him. What a damn fool he was to think he could hide away from it. He cared for this woman, and she’d nearly been taken away from him just like the others.

There wasn’t anything he could do for the girl in the wagon right now, no help he could offer that wouldn’t have his head bitten off. He felt useless, and he didn’t like that feeling. How he’d fallen so quickly for this whirlwind of a woman was a question he’d find himself asking every single day until he died.

* * *

Morning came quicker than anticipated. Arthur had taken on guard duty from Lenny so that the boy could rest. He slept for longer than most and was still asleep when Arthur passed his bedroll on his way to the medical wagon. Tilly was sat perched on the edge, a book in her lap and sleepless eyes staring at no page in particular. The girls had worked hard on Riley, and Tilly had volunteered to sit up with her all night to make sure she had a familiar face to wake up to. Judging by Tilly’s eyes, she didn’t wake up.

“Miss, you need rest,” Arthur said, offering Tilly a hand to help her down from the wagon. She took it gratefully and nodded. It didn’t take much convincing for her to go to bed.

Looking into the darkness of the wagon, Arthur held his breath. He climbed up to kneel on the hardwood floor, hat abandoned with his satchel on a medical supply crate outside. He sat down carefully; eyes dragging over every inch of her he could see.

Riley lay in the makeshift bed surrounded by red-stained black bear furs. She was asleep still, her eyes closed and circled with red. Her skin looked sticky with sweat and paler than it usually was. A blanket was pulled up to her chest, covering her modesty, but he could see the fresh dressings wrapped around her shoulder. The lack of bright blood across her body was a dramatic improvement, and somewhere in the colder part of his brain, Arthur wondered why almost every time he saw this woman she was covered in blood.

He settled with his back against the wall of the wagon, one leg crooked up and the other tucked underneath it. He watched her for what felt like hours, ignoring Miss Grimshaw’s protests when she came by to check on her. There was no way he was moving now, and Miss Grimshaw knew that. There was no point arguing with as stubborn a man as Arthur Morgan.

For most of the morning, Arthur spent nursing Riley as instructed by Miss Grimshaw. He dripped water into her mouth from a clean rag to keep her drinking and mopped her forehead too. His fingers itched when they were idle, so he settled or keeping them in firm fists just to still their nervous twitching. Riley’s sleep was so deep Arthur began to wonder if she’d wake up at all. He missed the fire in her eyes, the way she’d trail her fingers across his back when she passed by. He missed her witty remarks and her laughter. So much time alone to think probably wasn’t good for a man like him.

A loud crash echoed through the camp suddenly, shocking Arthur upright. He leaned out of the wagon, one hand primed on his pistol, first instinct screaming that he had to take cover. As it turned out Pearson had simply slipped with the stew pot when he’d gone to rinse it in the river. Bubbles soaked the grass and the cook, probably for the better. A string of curses made his lips twitch into a small smile before they set into a firm line as he retreated back into the wagon.

He turned to sit back down when movement caught his eye. Riley was awake, sat bolt upright in the bedroll with the blanket clutched tightly to her chest and one hand wrapped around her injured shoulder. Her eyes were wild, and her chest was heaving. She had no idea what was happening, and Arthur could see the fear cross her face briefly until her eyes focused on him. 

“Riley,” He breathed, clumsily surging forward to reach for the jug and cup laid beside her. He fumbled with the water and held the cup to her lips, one hand laid warm and gentle on the middle of her back. She accepted the drink desperately, parching her thirst for all she was worth. Arthur had to move the jug of water out of her reach when she demanded more. It wasn’t a great idea right now.

She seemed to deflate and sink back into the bed, guided by Arthur’s hand. He pulled the blanket up to her shoulders again and stroked the hair back from her face tenderly.

“You’re a mighty fool, Jameson.” Arthur teased once he was sure she wasn’t about to go back to sleep. Riley simply smiled, blinking slowly up at him. There was that smile. There was that fire.

“Wasn’t my fault. Plan was great for the most part. Turns out the door was locked from the inside.” She rolled her eyes, and Arthur could see the exhaustion in them still. But she was awake. She was alive.

“Marston’s gonna answer for it and much more, I promise you that.” He said, replacing his hands in his lap, all of a sudden unsure what to do with them.

“Mmm… Don’t kill him. Sometimes things go wrong, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Not really.” She said, stretching in the bed to gently touch her wound. Arthur saw pain flash across her face and winced in sympathy. He reached for a tonic, a small vile that he uncorked and pressed to her lips gently. She accepted, no matter how much she scrunched her nose up at the taste.

“Ain’t never got shot before. Gotta say, not a fan. Wouldn’t recommend it.” Arthur laughed, shaking his head as he tossed the vial into a discarded bowl. She still retained her humour even in this condition. It was when she tried to sit up again that he dove in with clumsy hands to try and help her. She batted his hands away with a tut, so instead, he bit back a sound and let her sit by herself.

“You should be restin’, Riley. Y’ain’t been awake ten minutes an’ already tryna’ leave?” Riley scoffed and began rooting around under the blanket and through the furs.

“Where’s my shirt?” She asked, a frown creasing her sweet face.

“Pretty much destroyed, I’m afraid. I’ll go get you a new one if you promise to stay here?” Riley huffed but nodded, beginning to thread her fingers through her hair to comb it out.

Arthur was quick to exit the wagon and make his way across the camp to Riley’s bedroll. He found her pack and began to rummage, pulling out clothes until he found a light blue button-down shirt that didn’t look too dirty. He took it back to her quickly, only to find her sitting on the edge of the wagon with the blanket around her upper half. Thankfully her jeans hadn’t needed removing during the chaos. He heaved a sigh as he made his way back to her, handing over the shirt before looking around at the camp.

Most of the men were out on jobs, and Micah was nowhere to be seen, at least. Nobody there to spy if she-

“Christ, Jameson!” Arthur spun around as Riley dropped the blanket, the fabric pooling around her waist as she slowly pulled on the shirt. He held his hands on his hips firmly, eyes scanning the area to make sure nobody was watching. He heard her scoff behind him and felt a gentle nudge to his calf from her boot. When he turned back around she was still partially exposed, but clearly struggling. He made sure to keep his eyes decent, least the lord himself strike him down in disappointment. 

“Would you mind helpin’ me out?” She asked, gritting her teeth as she extended her arm to attempt to slide the fabric on. The pain was visible on her face in the way her muscles tensed and her jaw clenched. Arthur did as he was asked to do without a second thought.

He pulled the fabric up over her shoulders, settling it gently before moving his fingers to begin the buttons. Their fingers brushed and distantly he was aware that she could probably do her own buttons up at this point. He paused for a second, eyes firmly planted on the buttons, and her touch melted away. He continued his task until most of the buttons were done up, leaving her room at the top to breathe. He even helped to roll up her sleeves the way she usually wore the shirts, pleased with such a mundane task as helping her dress.

When he was done and his restless fingers didn’t quite know what to do, he let them rest on his own belt buckle. He chewed his lower lip between his teeth and waited, mostly for her to say something. When she didn’t he looked up at her, finding those dull greens focused on something far off.

“Riley.” He spoke softly, calling her back to reality. Her eyes snapped to his and he was surprised to see them watering. Quickly, almost automatically, one of his hands moved up to cup her cheek. Camp be damned, she was breaking his heart with those eyes filled with oceans. “Darlin’ what’s goin’ on?”

“Nothin’, nothin’… I just- I ain’t never been shot before.” She spoke with a wobble in her voice as she said the same thing she’d been joking about not minutes ago. Then it clicked.

“First time’s always scary.” He rumbled, stepping closer to offer her some comfort. She took it willingly, her arms bunching against his chest as he enveloped her in his arms. “Feel’s like dyin’ an’ livin’ all at once. But you ain’t dead, not yet. You’re survivin’.”

Against his chest Riley sniffed, breath hitching as she took a private moment to compose herself, shielded from everyone and everything by Arthur’s frame. He gently stroked his fingers through the hair at the top of her neck, ever cautious of where his arms laid due to her injury. Gently he rested his chin on the crown of her head, thumb rotating small circles on her lower back. It was a precious moment that stuck in his throat as he considered the implications of her fear.

She could have died that day. She could have died before they’d even begun.

The thought sent a sour feeling to Arthur’s gut.

Eventually, Riley had composed herself enough to leave his warmth, and Arthur had stepped aside as a fluttering Miss Grimshaw made her way over to check on the patient. He was all but pushed out of the fray when the girls realised she was awake, crowding her and asking her questions like twittering birds. Across the camp he could see John stood leaning against a wagon, a cigarette between his lips and his arms folded. Arthur stared at him, clenched his jaw, but eventually nodded in his direction. The man returned the nod and sulked off elsewhere. In their own language, they knew the meanings of the gestures. He didn't blame John for what had happened. 

Without much else to do Arthur took himself away from the medical wagon to find a distraction. Upon seeing Micah sat beside Dutch’s tent without Dutch in sight he began to make his way over, already feeling the suspicion rising.

Not ten minutes after leaving Riley to the girls and he was riding out with Dutch and Micah, both men intent on some fools errand of a peace offering between the Van Der Linde’s and the O’Driscolls. Arthur knew, deep down, that if this were a trap it could cost him everything, and they were walking into the jaws of death like blind men in the swamp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My angst muscle needed flexing. Get ready for more angst. Here it comes in waves, baby!


	17. The Devil's Backbone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- The Devil's Backbone by The Civil Wars -
> 
> "Give me the burden, give me the blame  
> I'll shoulder the load, and I'll swallow the shame  
> Give me the burden, give me the blame  
> How many, how many Hail Marys is it gonna take?
> 
> Don't care if he's guilty, don't care if he's not  
> He's good and he's bad and he's all that I've got  
> Oh Lord, Oh Lord, I'm begging you please  
> Don't take that sinner from me  
> Oh don't take that sinner from me"

Riley was not a girl of religious morals. When she’d been younger her mother and father had taken her and her brothers to church every Sunday. There, with her family, she’d sing hymns and pray and all other manner of things a good Christian girl was supposed to do. When her father had died it was then, she decided, that God was not as omnipotent as their Reverand had so worshipfully claimed. If he was, he could have done something to save a good man from an untimely death. If he was, Riley wouldn’t have felt such unforgiving grief at such a young age.

* * *

Around her the gang members milled around going about their usual business as if nothing were happening. It had been several hours since Dutch, Micah and Arthur had ridden out to the middle of nowhere to talk peace offerings with none other than Colm O’Driscoll. When Mary-Beth told her, she’d felt anger at first. Pure rage, white-hot like dragons breath inside of her lungs as those words span around her mind. Why? Why peace, with men who though the word meant rape and fire?

Eventually, her anger had dissipated and turned to sadness. She’d confided in Mary-Beth her past, her sorrowful story of the ranch and her mother and brothers. After talking so candidly to Arthur not even two days before it felt so easy now. It felt like a relief to tell someone her horrid past. She even spoke about things she’d not even told Arthur on that day in the woods. How, for a few years prior to taking up the outlaw lifestyle, she’d worked as a working girl in a saloon in Strawberry. How she’d let men take what they wanted from her without much more than a thank you and a pitiful coin purse afterwards. She told Mary-Beth about her first robbery and how she’d been sick with worry the entire time. She even told her about the one time she was caught by a merchant and nearly beaten senseless for her crime.

After the sadness came the worry. The three men on their idiotic mission hadn’t returned until well after Pearson had served their evening meal. They rode in on frantic horses, Dutch shouting for Hosea and disappearing into his tent for a private conversation. Poor Molly was evicted and took herself off to the pier to sulk. Micah had gone straight for the beer, oddly favouring that over harassing Abigail who sat alone by the main fire. Something was off.

Riley had sat on her bedroll for most of the day with Mary-Beth for company. She’d taken up sewing, a poor hobby that she was terrible at, just to keep her hands busy. After being banned from the manual labour around camp she needed something to do. Mary-Beth taught her how to patch up socks like it was nothing, but Riley just couldn’t get the hang of it. It took her a moment to realise Arthur hadn’t ridden into camp behind the two men.

Inside her chest, she felt a strange constriction, a tightening that felt like large hands on her windpipe. She didn’t dare move when Dutch came out to call a meeting.

“Gather round, my friends, there is something we need to speak of.” He said, standing in front of his tent like a messiah about to proclaim the lord's word. Riley made her way over slowly after Mary-Beth helped her up from the ground, standing close to the back with the girl clutching her good arm.

“As some of you know myself, Micah and Arthur rode out this morning to see if we could form some sort of… treaty with the O’Driscolls. Now we knew that this could very well be a trap, that’s why we took Arthur. Protection. My best gun.” Dutch was speaking slowly, carefully choosing his words. He looked at Riley for a split second, before diverting his eyes to others.

The constriction in her chest tightened, her hands balled into fists as her breath shook in her throat.

“Regretfully, it was a trap. Now I don’t know what happened to Arthur but when we got away we trailed back to see if we could find him. Myself and Micah searched high and low for that boy, we couldn’t find him. I do not think he got away. There… there was a lot of blood.” Riley’s fingers twitched. She felt the colour drain from her face and her lips parted to suck in a sharp breath. What was he saying? Where was Arthur?

The dragon’s breath filled her lungs again, igniting her fury.

“Tomorrow morning I want you, Micah, to show Charles where we were. You’re my best tracker, Charles, I have faith you’ll find him. For now-“

“Tomorrow?” Riley asked, voice high in pitch from distress. “Why not now? What if he got caught? What if they’re killing him right now, Dutch? What if he needs us?”

All eyes were on her. Mary-Beth clutched tightly at her arm, trying to calm her down and asking her to leave it be. Riley couldn’t leave it be.

“Miss Jameson I assure you, we will do everything within our power to-“

“Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“BULL. SHIT. I’ll go myself.” Enraged once again for the second time that day, Riley snatched her arm out of Mary-Beth’s grip and began to make her way to the horses. Nobody made a move to follow her.

She struggled to unhitch her horse from her post. Someone, possibly Kieren, had washed the blood from her white fur but she remained unsaddled. Across the way beside the scout fire, her saddle sat on a log, halfway clean. She strode over to it confidently but she didn’t have the strength to lift it with one arm as injured as it was. She settled for dragging it by the pommel, tearing up dirt and grass in her wake until she was beside Trigger again. Her arm screamed at her to stop, the wound tearing from the effort as fresh blood began to soak her bandages. Burning pain caused her to drop the saddle in her attempt to lift it. She cursed, kicked at the saddle angrily, and tried again.

This burden, this rescue mission, she’d do it with one hand if she had to. If nobody else would, then she would. Alone.

A hand settled on her shoulder as she tried in vain to heft the saddle up onto her mare. Trigger shifted uncomfortably, clearly affected by the thickness of tension radiating from Riley. She turned to the man behind her, jaw set and eyes hard, sweat beading on her forehead.

“I assure you,” Dutch said, slowly and calmly as if speaking to a child. “I _assure_ you I will personally go out in the morning with the boys to find him. It’s dark, it’s dangerous, and everyone is tired. We won’t be much use to Arthur like this. He’s a strong man, he’s my son I raised him well. He’ll survive like you did, Miss Jameson. I promise you, we _will_ find him.”

It took her a moment to realise who was gasping for breath and why her eyes were unfocused. She blinked away tears, directing her anger at them as she furiously wiped them away. The hand on her shoulder gave a light squeeze. She relaxed, minutely, and nodded. There wasn’t anything she could do in this state. She felt so powerless.

“You have the same face he had when you came back from that job yesterday,” Dutch said, shifting his hand to her cheek in a fatherly way. She closed her eyes tight and restrained the dragon’s fire inside her lungs.

* * *

Most of the gang were as tense as Riley felt for the remainder of the evening. Hardly anyone spoke around the fire, and if they did their conversations were hushed and over if she came close by. Riley had taken to sitting on her bedroll with her back against the wheel of the wagon providing their shelter. She focused on gun cleaning for the rest of the night, working by the light of a lantern and two candles. Mary-Beth lay beside her, reading one of her romance novels absently but every time Riley looked over the page she was still on hadn’t changed. She took apart the rifle in her hands, cleaning each component expertly with a rag and gun oil. Her hands were mostly grease by the time she finished the camp’s rifles and moved onto her own weapons.

John had given her two brand new pistols from the job they’d done the other day. They were gorgeous, both engraved and with soft wooden handles. One showed the picture of a stag in the hilt, and the other a howling wolf. They didn’t need cleaning at all, but she found herself absentmindedly running her rag along each barrel. Her eyes stayed on the edge of the wood in two directions that their horses usually travelled. Javier and Bill were on guard duty on opposite sides, both hidden in the trees. The entire time she sat her gut twisted itself in knots.

Where was he now? What were they doing to him? Visions of her younger brother swirled in her head. Adam on the ground, with men surrounding him. His pleas to be left alone, his screams when they kicked and punched him. Their laughter, his cries. The sound of a bullet tearing through flesh.

_He’s just a boy…_

Riley could feel the heat of the fire on her skin as they set alight to all that mattered. She could hear her mother’s screams of terror, her older brother’s roar of anger, the gunshot that echoed in her mind against the juxtaposition of the quiet camp. The ground was harsh her hands when she tripped through roots and knots in the forest. The rough bark of the tree under her nails as she frantically climbed. Hot tears like lightning rolling down her cheeks.

Her throat constricted, and her hands clenched so tightly around the rag in her hands she thought it could rip apart. Is this what it’s like now? She thought, distantly, as her arms wound around her knees and her forehead rested atop them. Was she doomed to relive this nightmare again and again for the rest of her life? Why is it so dangerous to hold something close to your heart?

Eventually, Riley’s breathing evened out from ragged to quiet. The tremors in her shoulders slowed down, and as the candles beside her blew out with a quick gust of wind she felt the coolness of night embrace her. For the first time in almost sixteen years, she prayed and fell victim to the embrace of sleep soon after.

* * *

It was extremely early in the morning, the sun barely casting purple rays over the camp when Mary-Beth stirred beside her. Riley hadn’t moved all night, still sat with her legs up to her chest and her head in her arms. The younger girl sat and stretched, ready to begin her day's chores when she saw a familiar horse ride into camp. She stood, and just as the rider slumped sideways and fell to the ground her hands were on Riley’s back shaking her awake.

“Riley- It’s Arthur!” She said, hurriedly. Mary-Beth rushed off to meet him, and Riley raised her head quickly. Arthur lay on the ground in his union suit, practically covered in blood and too weak to stand. She stood up, stumbled on her stiff legs, and began running. Dutch and Karen were already by his side when she skidded to her knees beside him, hands hovering over his arm. She didn’t dare touch him.

“I told you it was a setup, Dutch…” Arthur wheezed, breath coming in short bursts.

“My boy… My dear boy, what?”

“They got me… But I got away.”

“Yeah… Yeah, you did.” Dutch’s hands were on Arthur’s hair and shoulder, tentative around the truly gruesome wound in his shoulder. It looked like he’d been shot and someone had cauterized it with a candle. Bile rose in Riley’s throat. “Miss Grimshaw! I need help! Reverend Swanson!”

“He was gonna set the law on us!” Arthur all but growled, anger and pain mixing together in his voice as Dutch attempted to sit him up. Riley helped, but was instantly moved out of the way by Mary-Beth with a quiet word on her lips.

“I’m sorry Arthur!” Pearson had appeared, now making his apologies. Was it his fault? Riley didn’t know.

“It is a bit late for apologies… SWANSON?!” Dutch was fueled by his anger and Riley didn’t understand why. Was it really Pearson’s fault? Wasn’t it Dutch who’d agreed to this fool's errand?

Amazingly the Reverand was here, and not at all as drunk as normal. There were voices around her as Mary-Beth held onto her good arm again, holding her back as the men lifted Arthur from the ground and helped to drag his large frame over to his bed.

“You’re safe now, Arthur. You’re home.” Dutch was saying as Arthur all but collapsed on his bedroll. Riley followed a short distance behind, standing by the pole keeping the canvas up above them.

“That’s pretty, Dutch. That’s real pretty.” Was he joking? Even amidst this pain and fever? What had they done to him?

“Miss Grimshaw… Sit with him a while.” Dutch requested, before making his way back to his tent.

The next few hours were a blur to Riley. She stood in place as the sun began to rise and Swanson and Miss Grimshaw worked together to clean Arthur up. They’d torn apart his union suit to get at his injuries, baring his body to the morning light. She could see where boot marks were already making their presence known as red bruises along his ribs. His eye was swollen almost shut, and cuts decorated his lips, eyebrow and cheek like dew on petals. For the most part, he lay unconscious, only making small sounds when Miss Grimshaw cleaned his wounds. Swanson acted as the go-between man, rushing to grab medicines and at once point even dipping into his own personal supply of ‘medicine’ to ease Arthur’s pain.

Come midday, when there was nothing left to do, both of their resident medics left to go about their day but not before Miss Grimshaw caught Riley by her hand and pulled her aside. For the most part, she’d been sat at the round table, watching the events unfold with hawk-like eyes. Miss Grimshaw lead her to Arthur’s tent and sat her down in the chair.

“You’re to watch him. Make sure he has what he needs when he wakes up.” It was a brief instruction, but there were heavier implications. Riley nodded stiffly and waited by his side.

* * *

It was evening when Arthur began to stir from his sleep. He was fitful, muttering words Riley couldn’t strain her ears to hear. She leaned forward, pressed her fingers into his palm slowly, and shifted onto her knees beside his bed. She could see him better this way, as night unfolded around them. She could see the bruises blossoming around his jaw, the cuts healing on his lip and brow. Her fingers travelled to his hair absently which she stroked away from his face. It was getting longer, longer than it had been when she’d first met him. Slowly her fingers traced the lines of his face, working down to his cheek which still burned against her palm. She wasn’t sure if it was a fever, or if he was just naturally so warm. Something inside her chest told her it wasn’t good.

After a minute or two of tracing his jaw and stroking back his hair, Arthur seemed to fall back into his slumber. Riley had sighed and sat up back into her chair, but as her fingers began to leave his she felt them tighten. Instantly she was back on her knees before him, raising their clasped hands to her mouth to kiss gently at the inside of his wrist. His eyes cracked open, red and tired but otherwise alive. A breath of air she didn’t know she was holding shot past her lips, and she bowed her head in silent thanks to whoever had answered her prayer. When she looked up again she found those pale blues staring directly into her soul.

“Why’re you cryin’?” Arthur asked, voice rough.

Riley simply smiled and shook her head. She hadn’t noticed the tear fall from her cheek onto their hands.

“I’m just glad you’re alive.” She said, voice equally as rough.

Arthur returned her smile, his fingers shifting from her hand to settle on her cheek. He stared at her for a while, and Riley was about to ask him a question when his eyes began to slowly shut again. She let him sleep, gently guiding his hand back down onto his chest, and pulled up the blanket to keep him warm.

* * *

For the next few weeks, Arthur suffered a fever. He was hot and cold all at once, sweating like the devil and shivering under several blankets. In the day Riley would help him to the water’s edge to bathe, rinse him of the grime of his captivity and comb his hair back with her fingers and soap. At night, she’d sit by his side in the chair, reading to him from her borrowed book on flora and fauna in the Americas. She’d help him with his meals, and hand him off to Charles or John whenever he needed the bathroom. For the most part, it was pleasant, but Arthur’s dreams were hard to manage.

She couldn’t be with him when he was dreaming. Often he’d wake up in a silent fit of fear, fists clenched and breath caught. She’d do her best to soothe him, calm his breathing, and read to him again until he fell asleep. She’d offer him water and medicines, and hardly ever mentioned why he was in this state in the first place. Instead, she distracted him with stories and tales from her past. For the most part this worked wonders, and she found herself getting to know this man even deeper than she had ever thought possible.

Her own injury was healing well. Luckily she’d escaped the fever that seemed to grip Arthur, and for that she was thankful. She took medicines daily until she felt she didn’t need it. The distraction of caring for Arthur was more than enough to keep her mind away. After a while, she regained motion in her arm and was able to live without bandages once again. She’d spend all of her time with Arthur when she could, and today was regaling him with a less than truthful rendition of her first big city robbery.

“…So I’m stood there with this woman’s bag in my hand in the middle of Saint Denis, and the Lawman comes up to me and starts to try and take it off me. Of course, this old hag I’ve stolen it from has told him what I look like so he’s got me by the scruff of my neck when I get an idea. So I look around for the nearest men, and luckily we’re right by the harbour. So I yell, as loud as I can at those men, pleadin’ for help. An’ I look back at the lawman whose got this stupid look on his face, and I scream ‘That’s my purse, I don’t know you!’ an’ then I stabbed him and ran. I was 21, it was a very memorable birthday.”

Riley had come to love the sound of Arthur’s laughter. She loved the way his face lit up and the smile lifted his eyes. The story wasn’t entirely a lie, she had stolen a lady’s purse but she hadn’t been as quick as to think up an escape plan and subsequently spent three nights in jail after attempting to stab a lawman with a hairpin. When he finished laughing, Arthur turned around from where he stood shaving the weeks worth of beard from his face. Riley sat on his bed, cross-legged with his journal open between her knees. She flicked through the pages absently, tracing the lines of his sketches lightly with her fingers.

“You said this was your first ever journal?” She asked, reading through the spelling mistakes and obvious lessons Dutch and Hosea had him practice. There were a few drawings here and there, things he’d attempted to draw but couldn’t quite get the hang of. A skunk on page 5, a drawing of Dutch with a cigarette between his lips. None of them good but better than she could ever attempt.

“Yup. Only one I have left, I think, ‘Side from my new one.” He carefully shaved up from his neck over his jaw, washing the blade in the bowl before carefully going back to his cheek. Riley hummed, closing the journal gently and laying it aside. She could see his new one poking out of his satchel which sat on the table across from her. Biting her lower lip she considered how fast she’d have to be to grab it and make a run for it.

The elusive journal had piked her curiosity since the day she’d seen it first in Arthur’s lap back in Horseshoe. She’d caught a glimpse or two of neat handwriting once or twice before, but her fingers itched to turn the pages and take in the sketches she’d seen him work on.

“You know when I was a boy I didn’t care too much for readin’ n’ writin’ like I do now. Felt it useless. I just wanted to be like old Dutch and Hosea, slingin’ guns an’ whatnot.” Arthur began to ramble into his story, and Riley figured it was the perfect opportunity to make her move. She stood up and made her way to the table, carefully pouring herself a glass of water from a pitcher whilst sneakily sliding the journal out and behind her back. She hummed and nodded in time to his story, but she wasn’t listening in the slightest.

“…And then there was the time me an’ John went to the saloon by ourselves for the first time. I think he was just 15 at the time, so I took him in and- Hey, what’re you doing?” Arthur dropped the razor in the bowl and turned on Riley faster than she’d seen him move since he’d arrived back in camp injured and sick. Riley was faster, nimble enough to leap over the back of his bed over crates to land on the grass. Many of the items on his table flew onto the ground, including the water jug. She clutched the journal to her chest, laughing as she heard him swear behind her and rush around the front of his bed space.

“Jameson!” Arthur yelled, but she was already halfway up a tree by the time he reached her. He caught hold of her boot but it slipped off, and he was left standing at the base of the tree with Riley firmly up in the branches, brandishing the journal like it was a trophy. Arthur cursed again, panting for breath. He still wasn’t over his sickness completely, and the short chase had left him out of breath. He coughed into his fist weakly and stood up straight to glare at Riley.

“Give me that back, you damn squirrel. How the hell do you climb so fast?” He said, holding out a hand as calm as anything. The panic in his eyes made Riley giggle, so she shook her head and moved to lounge against the trunk with one leg dangling off the edge.

“God damn menace…” Arthur muttered, before launching her boot at her with as much strength as he could muster. It bounced off her hip, but she caught it as it was about to fall and thanked him with a bow of her head.

“All in good time, sir!” She said, flicking open the first page. “I wanna know what goes on inside that head of yours, Arthur! Just give me five minutes?” Arthur stood with his hands on his hips, a frown firmly planted on his brow as he shook his head and sighed. He waved a hand at her and turned his back, off to find his razor again to finish the job on his face.

* * *

Riley skimmed the first half of the book absently, mostly in it for the drawings. She loved his drawings. They were so elegant and detailed, a skill she had no idea he possessed. The markings on the paper were like photographs, stills of life in motion. She turned the page from a composite drawing of a wolf and came across a half-finished, half quick sketch of a woman chopping wood. Her arms were raised, her eyes set on her task. Her hair swept back like a princess in a fairy tail. A small frown developed on her face as she traced the lines with her finger, careful not to smudge the pencil.

Another page held another drawing of this woman. She sat by the campfire surrounded by the men, laughing and talking. Another drawing showed her fishing, her back to the viewer mostly but you could just make out the tension in her shoulders. Riley was looking at drawings of herself in Arthur’s journal. Across the camp she could see he had disappeared from his shaving station. His hat and jacket were both gone too. She climbed down from the tree carefully and made her way back to his bedroll. On the table she found his pen, and she flicked to the page with the sketch of her fishing and wrote a short note in the corner. When she looked up it was to see Arthur making his way back over to her, two bowls of stew in his hands. He paused, looked from the journal to her hand mid-sentence, and to her face.

Neither of them said anything as Riley laid the pen down and closed the journal’s pages, leaving the book on the table. She took her stew and smiled warmly, offering thanks as she made her way over to the campfire.

Glancing behind herself she saw Arthur sat on his bed, journal in hand and stew forgotten on his pillow. She smiled to herself and sat down to enjoy her meal with Javier strumming the guitar and Charles playing his harmonica in unison.

* * *

The note, in scrawled handwriting, said:

_‘Your muse is willing to sit for a more detailed picture, minus the clothing if you like.’_


	18. Would you go with me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got angsty and s o f t in this chapter
> 
> \- Would you go with me by Josh Turner -
> 
> "If I gave you my hand would you take it  
> And make me the happiest man in the world  
> If I told you my heart couldn't beat one more minute without you, girl  
> Would you accompany me to the edge of the sea  
> Let me know if you're really a dream  
> I love you so, so would you go with me"

_I have been recuperating after an interesting encounter with Colm O’Driscoll. Dutch got it into his mind to meet the bastard, to somehow end all this lunacy._

_Only Colm did not share Dutch’s sense of honor amongst thieves. Whole thing was a set up to kidnap me, then lure all of the rest of us into a trap so we could get arrested and Colm could disappear away, us somehow carrying off his sin along with our own to the gallows._

_Seems like Colm is enjoying this modern world even less than we are._

_More by luck than judgement I escaped and somehow got back here, more dead than alive, and collapsed into bed for a few feverish days – after much nursing from Miss Grimshaw and Miss Jameson and much guilt ridden apologies from Dutch over his stupidity, I survived okay – my shoulder where I was shot ain’t come down with gangrene and I will live if even uglier than before._

_Things is getting more insane with the local population. My sense is neither the Grays nor the Braithwaites have a pot to piss in, but I ain’t spent too much time with the landed gentry._

_Whatever else they is, they don’t make one believe in the nobility of the aristocracy._

Arthur sat in the saddle of his horse as he thought on the last few months. He’d travelled far and met more people than he cared to admit. He’d seen the peaks of mountains helping a fool of a photographer, hunted animals in the deepest forests, and met the oddest of people. In truth he was exhausted; even after nearly three weeks of rest and care from Jameson, he needed a break. Not even two hours after getting the all-clear from Miss Grimshaw, Arthur found himself out on the open road again with Gypsy happy to be out of camp. His shoulder ached still, a phantom pain to what he’d experienced weeks prior.

Beside him, on her own beautiful white horse, Riley’s mare carried her like she was royalty. Arthur felt something clench in his stomach when he looked at her, his cheeks tinged pink. Thankfully the flush could be blamed on the summer heat that beamed down on them from the midday sun.

Arthur swept a large hand across his forehead, casting his eyes along the road to see how much longer they had left. They were on their way to Saint Denis, just to scope out the area as most of the gang didn’t much like big cities. Arthur could be included in that respect, but when Riley had volunteered to go he’d found himself tailing along like a lost dog.

He’d had some time to think during those three weeks of companionship with the girl. He’d found out more about her, and himself in the process. She was 29-years-old and her birthday had been the prior March. Her favourite colour was green, and she favoured her right hand when shooting or writing. Arthur had also noticed things about her that she didn’t talk about. Sometimes in the night he’d hear her wake up with a gasp. He knew it was her, he’d grown accustomed to the noise since seeing it for the first time at his own bedside where she’d been sat diligently watching over him in his dark hours of illness. He knew that, for a few seconds as her brain caught up, she had no idea where she was. He knew that a quiet invite to sit by the fire was a great cure for that loss in her eyes, and a beer in the hand helped ease the fear he could almost smell radiating from her.

He wasn’t so much a stranger to nightmares. In fact, they almost had a wordless agreement about them. About a week ago now, in the midst of his fever, Arthur had woken up with a name on his tongue and panic gripping his heart in its spindly fingers. The sensation of someone hushing him, a hand threading through his hair, fingers dancing across his open palm. It worked wonders for the soul, even if he did have to take the time to explain why it was he cried out for Isaac in the midst of a nightmare.

Their friendship had taken an unnaturally fast turn into a territory that scared Arthur more than anything. After Mary, after Eliza and Isaac, he’d promised himself no more heartache. A vow, mostly to himself, to never let another person hurt him. Intentionally, or not, he couldn’t face that emptiness again.

_And yet, here we are._

Arthur rode in silence as they made their way into town. Riley chatted with him openly about mundane things, and her voice filtered through his ears like the wind. He wanted to listen, he wanted to contribute, but his mind was elsewhere. At least he managed passable grunts and hums as a conversation.

What started this off had been that fake kiss to get away from the law. It had evolved, then, into an adrenaline-fuelled embrace against a tree after a train robbery. And then, again, progressing to an intense fuck under the moonlight after a few too many sips of whiskey. Arthur was fine with it. He enjoyed it, in fact. A beautiful woman paying him attention, touching him in ways he hadn’t felt in years. Speaking to him as a friend and fucking him as a lover. That’s what he’d assumed it was. A mutually beneficial relationship. A way to get off, and a person to talk to.

Nothing could prepare him for the Everest he was faced against now.

Riley pulled off the main road to dip down the high streets, looking in the windows of buildings they passed; making note of shops that may be of interest. Arthur’s responses were few and far between, and it must have been grating on the girl because she stopped and dismounted without a word. She hitched her horse and Arthur followed in suit, petting absently at Gypsy’s mane.

“Arthur.” Her voice was loud enough in the din of his thoughts to grasp his attention. “What’s goin’ on with you? You’ve not said two words to me the entire ride here.”

Riley stood with her hand on her hip, the other hung by her side. Her hat was tipped backwards and sweat gathered around her forehead and shone on her cheeks. Her lips were parted, but her brows were furrowed together in something Arthur was quick to identify as _worry_. What had he done to deserve the worry of such a gorgeous girl?

“Nothin’, jest… Thinkin’ is all.” He muttered, kicking a wayward stone with his boot heel. The city felt like a coffin, too many bodies around and so much noise. He’d give anything to leave.

Riley seemed to share a similar thought and gripped his upper arm with a sigh. He let her take him wherever she wanted, following obediently behind. It took him a moment to realise she was headed for a bar, a small place near the market that had few customers. Inside was dark and dismal; exactly how Arthur liked it. She sat him down at a table in the backroom by an open window and went to order drinks. As she left, Arthur’s eyes followed her like a lost puppy dog.

How had he fallen into this much of a mess again? How had he let someone get so close? When had it happened? Did she feel the same?

A deep, hurting regret ached in Arthur’s chest. She couldn’t. In his mind the logic was simple. She was pure, untainted by his way of life like the girls before him. He’d made them dirty with his life choices, and he’d do the same to her. He’d dirty a rose that was meant to be white with his mud and grime and blood. Riley could never love a fool like him. Maybe it was just the sex, maybe it was just the thrill of bedding an outlaw, maybe it was a phase. Whatever the case, Arthur sucked in a breath and twisted a leg to sit on his knee to keep it still as she came back with two cold jugs of beer in one hand, and a couple glasses of whiskey in the other.

“This place… is so cramped.” Riley said as she set the drinks down. Arthur grunted, and was quick to shot back the whiskey, and take several gulps of the beer. It eased the ache in his chest a little. Riley watched him, something hard in her eyes.

“Arthur.” She called for him again, this time reaching across the table to lay her hand on top of his. Arthur pulled back, maybe a little too fast, and regretted it instantly as he saw her flinch.

Clearing his throat, he offered her a small apology and dipped his hat low over his face. It didn’t stay there for long, however, as a gust of wind and a hard thwack to the leather had it soaring over his shoulders and onto the floor behind him. Arthur didn’t flinch, but he did raise his eyes up to Riley at long last with an irritated frown.

“Ah, there he is, still there? You’re doin’ this weird broodin’ routine and it’s getting’ on my nerves.” Riley began, shotting her own whiskey in one before moving onto her beer. “You gonna talk or am I gonna have to get you drunk before I figure out what’s got you all stressed?”

Her voice was harsh but he deserved it, he was being an asshole. Slowly, as if it pained him, Arthur sat forwards in his seat and leaned on the table.

“What… what are you doin’ with us, Jameson?” _What are you doing with me?_ “Why’d you stay with a buncha’ outlaws when you could go live your life somewhere else, get a nice feller and settle down on a farm an’ raise a bunch of kids.” He painted a picture he knew Mary had wanted, the same picture he’d almost given Eliza.

Riley frowned, shrugged, and gulped her beer. “Not my thing anymore, I guess.” She said, casually.

“Why? Why ain’t it?”

“Just ain’t!” She was getting defensive now, so Arthur quit with his pushing.

“You could do so much better than ridin’ with our merry band of reprobates.” _Than riding with me._

Riley scoffed, shook her head, and put her hat on the table with deft fingers. She leaned forwards, beer clasped in both her hands, and sneakily nudged her knuckles against his. This time he didn’t move back.

“You’re kind.” Riley began, voice low.

“That ain’t what I-“

“I know what you asked. I know it’s not what you meant, so shut up and listen before I lose my patience.” Arthur shut up with a gruff sound, and settled for taking a long drag of his beer.

“I’ve been doin’ this lifestyle for eleven years now and I’ve come to realise two things. One; people are horrible. They lie, they cheat, they scheme an’ hurt. Most men won’t look twice at a whore that they just bedded and refused to pay. Most women will conveniently walk around a beggar in the street. A clergyman will steal from the church, a lawman will rape and threaten and beat you. People are, and will be, the worst versions of themselves they can be.”

Riley was silent for a beat, and Arthur’s throat felt tight but he held her gaze as she spoke again.

“Two; people are kind. Sometimes, in this horseshit of a thing they call life, there’s someone that makes it all worthwhile. There’s a young girl that takes in her sister’s baby when she dies too early. There’s a husband who works his fingers to the bone for a wife who just bore his first child. There’s nuns and priests who spend their own money on the homeless, and then there’s people like you. The kinda people that save a girl from a downward spiral, who takes her out drinkin’ and doesn’t take advantage of her drunkenness. The kinda man that buys her a horse when she stupidly gets hers killed. The best of them, Arthur, that’s you. You’re the best of them.”

Riley’s fingers were covering his own, almost cold compared to the heat in his own hands. He swallowed thickly, absorbing her words.

“Did you think I stayed because I wanted a fuck, or because I wanted to try my hand at the outlaw life?” Riley asked, dragging his wayward eyes back up to hers with the sharpness in her words.

“It’s not like that… I guess… I guess I just thought you’d be like the other girls. Like I’d drug you int’ a life you weren’t fit for.” Arthur admitted quietly, his eyes falling back to the table where her hands covered his. He hadn’t noticed his beer had disappeared from between his palms.

“Hey. Hey!” Nails dug briefly into his hands, the sting causing him to glance up. She looked mad.

“I was already balls deep in this life before you ever knew my name, Arthur Morgan.” She reminded him with a sharp shake of her head and a tension in her shoulders. “Y’ain’t draggin’ me nowhere I ain’t already been.”

Arthur stayed quiet, chewing his bottom lip. He wasn’t convinced. Riley sighed, and released his hands to pick up her beer again. He felt the loss immediately.

“After my family was slaughtered I went to live with my aunt in Strawberry. I didn’t know her too well but I had a roof over my head and food in the pantry. But she was an old lady, and died that winter. The bank took her house and again I was out on the street, only this time I was well and truly fucked because I’d run outta relatives. So I went to try an’ find work. Nobody would have me, they didn’t need a stable hand or a store assistant. They didn’t need a barmaid. Only thing I could do to get myself a bed was become a working girl.” Riley chewed her lip a little, but progressed with her story without much hesitation.

“I gave men what they wanted and they gave me what I wanted. And then, one day, an outlaw by the name of Billy Roddrick rolled into town and he paid for my services. Only the services he wanted were somethin’ I didn’t want to do. So he tried to take it from me. And he nearly did, Arthur, until somethin’ inside me snapped. I killed him with a broken wine bottle to the neck, and I watched him bleed on the sheets. I was capable of takin’ life. It was all the push I needed to find myself some clothes, steal his money and his horse, and hightail it out of town. I picked up bounties for a while in Valentine. I stole and robbed on the side when bounties weren’t enough. I’ve slept rough, I’ve been rough. I ain’t a pretty flower like you like your girls. I got thorns, Arthur.” She said the last words angrily, almost spitting them across the table in her desire to spell it out for him as plainly as she could. Arthur could see it in her face, he could feel it in the way she gripped the table and breathed roughly.

Slowly he sucked in a breath and felt a little tension ease from his own shoulders. Maybe she was right, it wasn’t his fault she was like this. But he could save her a whole lotta hassle right here and right now if he could only tell her he didn’t want anything to do with her. If he could convince her he was poison, then she’d leave and this wouldn’t be another repeat of Eliza or Mary. The thought made his stomach clench uncomfortably.

“Riley…” Arthur began, but she cut him off quickly.

“Finish your beer. We’re gonna go to that nice hotel we passed as we came by, and we’re gonna get a bath and a nice bed for the night. My treat.” Without another word she drained her cup and slammed it on the table, replaced her hat on her head, and made her way out of the bar. Arthur was left gawping after her like an idiot.

Dammit, she must know what he was trying to do but he’ll be damned if it isn’t for her own good.

Outside Arthur met back up with her brisk pace set back to the horses. He tried to speak but the din of the city was too loud, so he settled for following close behind her, guiding Gypsy as she guided Trigger to the grand looking hotel. They both passed on their horses to a man who would take them to the private stables around the rear of the building, Arthur paying for them to feed and brush as well as board them. Inside the hotel was a smallish lobby with guests waiting on soft-looking chairs, and a man stood behind the desk with a guest book in front of him. Riley strode confidently up to him, and dropped several coins on the counter.

“Two baths and a room for the night, please.” She asked sealing the deal as the counter clerk snapped his fingers at a lady stood by a side door. She bowed her head and rushed off upstairs to prepare the baths. Arthur could only watch and wait. He’d speak to her privately, where there were less distractions around them and less noise in his ears. He didn’t much like the fact that it would probably be an hour or so before that could happen.

His bath was hot and bubbly by the time he was called for. Riley had already gone for her own, leaving straight away without much of a backwards glance at him. Arthur had to admit he was grateful for the soothing water. His muscles ached from riding all day, and a thin layer of dust and sweat coated his skin like a fine membrane. It all washed away the second he sunk into the steaming heat, groaning with the relief of it. Oddly, nobody knocked on his door asking if he wanted a deluxe bath during his time in the tub. Not that he would have accepted, of course. He was a grown man, he could wash himself.

After thoroughly rubbing a soap smelling of lavender over his body, Arthur thought himself clean enough and emerged from the hot water to get dressed. Thinking to have brought a spare change of clothes up with him, Arthur changed into a pair of dark blue jeans and a simple white shirt that had three buttons at the top. He left them undone so he could cool off, and raked his fingers back through his hair to put it in some semblance of order. The clerk on the reception desk gave him his room number and he made his way up, intent on having that conversation with Riley as soon as he could.

She deserved a life that wasn’t full of danger like his. She deserved so much more, and all he had to do was convince her.

Opening the door, Arthur was surprised to see it empty. It was a fairly small room with a cosy looking fireplace on one wall and a large double bed against the other. The last wall was given to two large windows that opened out to the street below. Thankfully, as dusk drew darkness over the city, there were less people milling around on the hard floor below. A lot less distracting noise. Arthur left the window open and let the curtains blow with the cooler air that entered the room. Riley must have still been in the bath, he thought, as he sat himself down on the chair beside an ornate looking desk. He opened his journal and began to write down his thoughts. They were a jumble in his head, and writing like this helped to organise them. He spent a good twenty minutes on one page, filling it with things he wanted to say but didn’t have the articulate words for, when Riley finally joined him.

She opened and closed the door quietly, and when Arthur looked up he saw she was wearing her usual jeans but a blouse he’d not seen before. It was white, made from a more delicate fabric than her usual style. Its sleeves were long on her arms, accenting the slenderness of her neck and wrists with tight-fitting material. Her hair hung, wet, behind her shoulders and she had a small smile on her face. Arthur hadn’t noticed before but she had a few speckles of freckles on her nose and jawline.

“Feel better?” She asked as she sat herself down on the bed. Arthur grunted and nodded, stretching back his arms. He had to admit it was nice to be clean, and it was nice to relax in steam after a long days ride. Riley nodded, pleased with her plan to unwind him it seemed. Poor girl, she had no idea what he was about to say.

“Riley, I can’t… I can’t make you leave. God knows you’re just as stubborn as I am, maybe even more, but I have t’ say my piece.” His words started off strong, and he held his ground even as her face fell a little. He turned his chair around to face her, and leaned his elbows on his knees.

“I ain’t a good man, I ain’t never gonna be a good man. I couldn’t be, for the women in my life prior to you and I can’t be for you. I am no good, Jameson, no matter what you say. I’m an old, ugly fool of a man and you? You’re-“ Arthur cut himself off, gesturing to her wordlessly. She said nothing, simply stared at him with sad eyes.

“I don’t wanna get you killed. I don’t wanna be the reason for your dyin’ so soon. I can’t, I can’t have that on my soul. I don’t want you to regret this choice, this fools decision to be with a man that can’t provide a single thing for you.” Arthur had to stop speaking; his voice was rough and his heart hurt too much. They sat in silence for a minute, and Arthur’s eyes drifted to the window. Jaw set, teeth clenched, his hands balled into fists where they sat on his knees.

“You’re right.” Riley said, softly. Arthur’s heart audibly cracked. He nodded and closed his eyes for a moment only to open them again as Riley stood up to place her soft hand against his rough cheek. He didn’t lean away; this could be the last he felt of her.

“You’re right… You can’t make me leave.” Arthur’s eyes snapped up to her and he was about to protest when she laid her entire hand over his mouth. He huffed, frowned, but otherwise let her.

“I need you to get this into your thick skull quick and hard, Arthur.” Riley said, bending down to stroke her hand back up to his cheek, her other hand joining it on the opposite side of his face. “I am not the women from your past.”

Riley stared into his eyes for a solid ten seconds, her thumb brushing his lower lip. Arthur felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and realised he was melting under her touch. His resolve was disintegrating under her touch and gentle words.

“I am not gonna be a regret for you. Nor you me.” She punctuated her words with a stiff nod, and slipped into his lap to sit astride his thighs. Arthur’s hands automatically came up to rest on her hips to keep her steady, thumbs fingering the waistband of her jeans.

“You _are_ a good man.” He tried to protest but she laid her thumb on his lip again, silencing him with a glare. “This isn’t an argument. Listen. Listen closely.”

He did as he was told.

“You are… handsome. You are kind, and funny, and sweet as apple pie. You are fiercely loyal, almost to a fault, and you are the best damn gunman I know. You are protective, caring, and so, so gentle. You are the man in the novel that the princess falls in love with.” As she spoke, Riley’s fingers danced across his features. His eyes were pinned on her, his jaw still set but his teeth no longer clenched. He felt the tips of her fingers close his eyes and trace the scars of his face.

His heart hammered in his chest as she spoke, a spark of fire igniting in his soul at each compliment. His cheeks burned, and he wished he could argue but maybe… maybe he could start to pretend she was right.

“I didn’t plan on fallin’ in love with a man on the run… Though I s’pose you didn’t plan on fallin’ for a girl whose got nothin’ to lose.” She said the words fondly, and Arthur’s breath hitched as she pressed a feather-light kiss to his lips. He felt like his heart was about to explode. His hands acted of their own accord as he processed her confession. They slid up her back, gently trailing over the lace of her shirt to settle one at the base of her spine and the other at the top of her neck. He kissed her softly, sweetly, like he’d wanted to since that day on the train.

She was putty in his hands, malleable and easy to manoeuvre. Her arms wound around his neck and her fingers into his damp hair, nails scratching gently on his scalp and urging a pleased sound from his lips. She was gentle, so soft and warm against his chest, a firm weight to keep him grounded. Her lips tasted like whiskey and honey, and her tongue briefly and lightly nudged at his lower lip. He gave her everything she asked for, lips parting and breath coming quicker.

After a few moments of lazy kisses, Riley sat back in his lap and rested their foreheads together, her nose lightly nudging his. They both sat with their eyes closed, fingers dancing through wet hair and across bath-warmed skin.

“So god damn stubborn.” Arthur thrummed, but his voice was lighter and he held a smile on his lips. Riley matched that smile for all she was worth, relief evident on her features.

“You’re worth it.” She said, simply. “You’re worth everythin’ I have and more. You just gotta take the risk, Arthur. And for the love of god, stop tryna push me away.”

“Darlin’… You’re makin’ me so soft.”

Riley giggled, a sound that Arthur had never heard before and likened to church bells. He dipped in for another kiss, this more confident than the last, and stood up with her legs wrapped around his waist. She clung on easily, keeping her weight up with her arms on his shoulders. He walked them to the bed and gently laid her down, going with her into the soft sheets to enjoy his brief moment of peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had such an overwhelming wave of love and support over this little fic of mine and I'm so thankful! 
> 
> As always, kudos, comments and constructive criticism is always welcome. <3 
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to you people that comment so often, you keep my willpower alive.


	19. Bounty on my head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Bounty on my Head by Grizfolk - 
> 
> "I've got a really bad feeling I'm gonna love you so good  
> Take you down to my hometown  
> The old neighbourhood
> 
> I've got a really bad feeling you're gonna hurt me so good  
> I'll go down any way you want  
> Any way I struggle"

The cool night air breezed through the room as Arthur pressed Riley into the sheets of the bed. She relaxed into them immediately, her fingers mindlessly toying with the collar of his shirt or else fixed in place in the hair at the base of his neck. Her lips were devilishly occupied by his rougher, more experienced ones. Finally, _finally_ she was at home. Relaxed, content, at peace, whatever you’d call it. Riley felt _right_.

Arthur hovered above her, hardly putting his weight on her at all as he held himself up on one arm, the other stroking fingers tenderly down her cheek. This wasn’t like their last encounter at all, there was nothing fast-paced or urgent. This was slow, and gentle and so _soft_ that it made Riley’s heart flutter. Beneath her touch, his damp hair was tangling between her fingers. She stroked it down, threading her hand through it easily and slowly. Arthur gave a small, appreciative sigh above her. She’d noticed he enjoyed it when she touched his hair, even as innocent a touch as brushing it back after rinsing soap from it. Tension seemed to roll off of his shoulders the deeper they sank into the bed.

It made Riley happy to see him like this. He was a stubborn, fool of a man but she felt like she was finally getting through to him. Maybe this had started out as a little fun but now… now something was different and she was bold enough to admit it terrified her. Slowly, with all the caution of a hunter faced with a predator, Riley let her feet plant on the bed as she leisurely pushed herself up towards the headboard. Arthur didn’t follow, instead, he used the opportunity to lather kisses at her jaw and neck, trailing them down to her still clothed chest. His hands moved to cradle her waist and hips in large hands, encasing her in a warmth that still yet drew goosebumps to the surface of her skin. She smiled down at him as his blue eyes found hers. There was something like adoration in his them that made her want to _melt_.

Slowly, as if asking for permission in a wordless gesture, Arthur began to lift her shirt. She nodded, raised her arms above her head, and let him slip the white shirt from her body. The cooler night air felt incredible, goosebumps raising wherever the breeze caressed. Arthur was quick to let the warmth of his hands soothe the chill. His hands travelled up her waist and his fingers danced along her ribs. He was watching her avidly, taking in her responses as she let her arms lay beside her head, eyes lidded and lips kiss bitten.

He leant down to press a tender kiss to her stomach just above her navel. The rasp of his facial hair sent shivers down her spine, and he soothed the space under her ribs at each side with small rolls of his thumbs. His kisses raised higher, pressing to her ribs, higher still to the space between her breasts, and then to the dip between her collarbones. She arched her neck, eyes closing as she relished in the soft lips that travelled up to finally hovered above her own. Her hands travelled back down to his shoulders, stroking down until they settled on his hips. She felt like he was worshipping her, a feeling she wasn’t at all used to but relished all the same. Arthur settled his forehead against Riley’s, gently nudging their noses together as they shared short breaths.

_Intimate_.

Slowly she felt her skin warming under his touch, and a fire lit up her stomach. She smiled, reaching up to meet his kiss with as much hunger as he showed. Their tongues entangled, teeth biting at lips, soft sounds escaping with each breath she took. Her hands played with his shirt, pulling it up from where he’d tucked it into his jeans. She pulled at it, impatiently, and managed to hitch it up around his arms before he got the hint. Wrenching himself back from the kiss, Arthur was gone for a split second to toss his shirt across the room, probably to never be seen again. A shame, Riley thought, she liked that shirt.

Without so much as a word between them Arthur pressed down again to hover above her, but seemed so tentative to use his weight. Riley thought to fix that. With one swift motion, she pressed the palm of her hand to the base of his spine, pulling him closer until their torsos were flush together. He was so warm above her, a welcome touch compared to the chill settling in the room from the open windows. She gave a small, satisfied hum, and let her free hand move to find his cheek. Her thumb rubbed over his lower lip, her eyes trailing after them as she memorised every scar, every line, and every story that sat upon his skin. She loved it. She loved _him_.

Gently she drew his lips back to hers and kissed him with feeling, taking what she wanted from his mouth with as singular a motion as a flick of her tongue against his. Her breath caught as his hands began to wander. She felt them travel down her sides again, rising up to follow the curve of her breasts. Arthur was the one to break the kiss, pulling back a little with a shaky sigh as his lips found unchartered territory of her shoulders and slender neck. This wasn’t the sort of attention she was used to. After so much drama, after so much adrenaline, she was far better at the rough fucks and gropes behind buildings, down the sides of streets, off the beaten path. It’s what she lived for, so much so that she never thought she’d engage in something so gentle and slow. This was what Mary-Beth read about in her novels, not real life.

But Arthur made it feel so real as he trailed open-mouthed kisses down her chest to take a nipple between his lips. He adored it with his tongue, grazed it between his teeth and tugged gently until it was a hardened nub. He gave it’s twin the same attention, replacing his mouth with his thumb and forefinger to keep it how he wanted it- and Riley was a puddle beneath him. Breathy sighs and whispers of encouragement fuelled him.

He was certainly talented with his mouth, Riley thought distantly as Arthur’s free hand began to fiddle with the buttons on her jeans. Her hands dropped down from his shoulders to help him, and quickly she shuffled out of them and back onto the bed. He threw them aside with the rest of their clothes and grinned as he found her completely bare beneath him.

“Pretty indecent for a lady to go about without any underwear on.” He said, voice gruff and intent in his eyes. He settled back between her legs, working out the tension in her thighs under skilled hands. Riley simply smiled, sitting up on her elbows to watch him work.

“Nobody ever said I was a decent lady.” She countered, one brow raised and a smirk on her lips.

“Now you would be right about that.” Arthur laughed, leaning forward to press gentle kisses to her nose, cheeks, and finally her lips. It was just a peck, just a gentle press of his lips against hers, but she found that she was far more wound up than she’d previously thought. With one hand she managed to press her palm against his chest, dragging it down through the sparse hair there and to his stomach. By all means, he was toned, muscular under her fingers, but soft and cared for after weeks of illness.

Her thoughts began to wander as he dropped his head to work his tongue and teeth against her neck again. She enjoyed it, she enjoyed him thoroughly, but her mind was now elsewhere.

Merely weeks ago she’d nearly lost him. Covered in blood, riding into camp half dead and fevered-

“ _Darlin’_ ,” Arthur spoke softly, one of his hands cupping her cheeks. She hadn’t realised he’d stopped moving. “Where you goin’?”

“I’m here.” She said, wiping the worry from her face with a swift smile.

“No, y’aint… Where’re you goin’?” Gun rough hands stroked back her hair as he forced her to lie down, hovering above her on one arm but close enough to keep her warm with his body. Concern littered his features, weakening her will.

“I just… I’m just realisin’ that you mean a whole lot t’me.” Riley said, softly. “That I don’t never wanna see you ride back t’me half-dead like you did.”

Arthur gently stroked along her cheekbone and gave a small sigh. She could see in his eyes that he battled with similar thoughts, and regretted her words immediately. Biting her lower lip, convinced she’d ruined the mood, she began to withdraw her hand from his stomach when he gripped it quickly and drew it back. Slowly, without much pressure, he drew her hand up to his chest and over his heart. Beneath the skin she could feel the beating of his heart, fast and fluttering like a bird.

“Don’t think ‘bout things we ain’t gonna change. Past is past, just be with me here an’ now…” He spoke softly, and once he was sure she wasn’t about to move her hand he let his own travel down her arm and rest against her own. She smiled a little as she realised her own heart was beating just as hard as his. He was alive, and so was she. They were both still _breathing_.

“Don’t think for one minute I don’t worry ‘bout the same things, but right now I don’t wanna think on worries. I just wanna be.” For a man who spoke so little of his feelings, Arthur sure had a way with words when he wanted to. Riley’s breathing hitched, and her tongue darted out to wet her lips. His eyes followed the movement, but he made no move. She realised then that he was waiting for her go ahead.

“Tell me what you do wanna think about, then.” Riley said, shifting her hand back down to the solid stomach she’d been getting to know before. Her free hand settled on his wrist, dragging his hand up from her chest so that she could press butterfly light kisses to his palm. Arthur’s eyes tracked her lips, and she felt a warmth return to her stomach.

“I wanna think about the nice things in life.” He began, transfixed as Riley kissed the pad of his thumb. “Like a cold beer, quiet rides in the mountains, warm fires…”

She hummed as Arthur dropped a kiss to her lips, cutting himself off as he leaned into her with a little more of his weight. Riley loved it. She told him as much with her fingernails scraping against his shoulder, the one not currently scarred by his latest injury. She felt him shiver and congratulated herself on a job well done.

“I wanna think about you, lyin’ here all wantin’ for me… That night under the stars where I was _tied_ to you an’ I felt like the luckiest man in the world.” Riley smiled against his lips, her hands travelling down to his hips. She undid his buttons and relished his sigh of relief before his hands found her wrists and dutifully removed them.

“Darlin’, let me take care of ya.” He said, sternly, pressing her hands to the bed above her head and all she could do was nod, and smile, and wait.

Arthur moved quickly down the bed, trailing kisses along her stomach and hips as he went. He settled on the edge, trailing his fingers from her knees to the outsides of her thighs as he bent to press an open-mouthed kiss under her naval.

Riley closed her eyes the second she felt the flat of his tongue press gently against her. He repositioned her hips, nudging one of her calves over his shoulder and then rested his forearm across her stomach to keep her still. She felt the deliciously prickly feeling of his beard against her bare thighs, and a shudder rolled from her shoulders to her heels as he used that to his full advantage.

He worked his tongue around her opening slowly, tracing circles before delving inside. She groaned aloud, fingers clenching in the bedsheets as she bit her bottom lip. It was torturously slow the way he lapped at her, never fully giving her what she needed but only the tender tease of his tongue. She tensed whenever he rose to pay attention to the area around her clit, dancing circles around it but never giving it the love she desired.

“ _Arthur_ …” She whined softly, pleased with the instant reward of his tongue gently working closer. “ _Arthur please_ …”

He was destroying her with the gentleness of it all. She chased after small spasms of pleasure he allowed her, hips canting off the bed whenever he thought to let his tongue work magic circles over her sensitive clit. She was so distracted she hardly realised he’d worked two fingers inside of her, already coated in her slick. They moved just as slowly as his tongue within her, arching and twisting and ever so gently caressing her from the inside. She let out a gentle sigh, arched from the bed slowly, and pressed her calf insistently against his back.

Thank the _lord_ he got the hint. His motions began to speed up, his fingers working faster as his tongue was abandoned in favour of him sucking gently on her clit. She threw a hand over her mouth, a habit of circumstance to keep silent, and dropped her other hand into his hair. He gave a light rumbling sound, content with her reactions, and the shaking in her thighs began to mount. Springs coiled in her stomach, and she found her hips twitching against his mouth at the downright sinful things he was doing to her. She was close, so damn _close_ , and she told him as much with a frantic slap of her hand to his shoulder. He carried on, increasing his tempo as her nails dug into his shoulder. She let out a quiet and muffled moan from under her own hand, froze in place, and chased her orgasm over the edge of the cliff.

Lightning danced under her skin as she came down from the high, floating above the bed with panting breaths and sweat-damp skin. She relaxed into the bed instantly, her leg falling from Arthur’s shoulder as he climbed up her body, eyes alight with fire. She recognised that fire, especially as he was still hard as a rock in his jeans without a single hand or mouth to help him get off. She almost felt sorry for him.

_Almost_.

“You… are a singular man, Arthur Morgan.” Riley sighed happily as he cleaned his hands and mouth on the sheets. She drew him up with a resolute hand on his cheek and lay gentle kisses to his lips. She could taste herself on his tongue.

“ _Fuck me_.” She breathed, posing it as more of a question than a command. She watched a range of emotions cross his face and smiled as it eventually landed on pure excitement.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He stood from the bed, quick to rid himself of his jeans, and knelt between her legs like he was born to sit there. Riley grinned, allowing herself a moment to take him in. His thighs were just as toned as hers from years of horse riding and running from the law. He had several scars there too, scars that she planned to map out with her tongue when she was finished giving him everything he could ever want.

She sat up quickly from the bed as soon as Arthur hesitated. He looked like he didn’t know where to put his hands like a great feast was laid out before him and he had no idea where to start. Too many options. Riley took the options away and gave him what she knew he needed. She quickly slid into his lap as he sat back on his heels on the bed, and positioned herself in his lap easily. His cock was a firm presence against her stomach, and she pressed herself close just to give him a little relief. He groaned, held her close to his chest, and began busying himself with kissing every available patch of skin he could.

Sufficiently distracted, Riley took the opportunity to take him in hand. He was larger than she’d expected, though they’d only managed a quick fuck in the woods and it was all hands anyway. He curved in her palm as she gave him a few gentle strokes, thumb rocking over the head of his cock to collect the wetness that gathered at the tip. The man before her practically growled under her services. She imagined he was wound tight after giving her such pleasure and wondered how long it would take him to snap under her teasing. Not tonight, though. He’d more than earned it tonight.

Rising up on her knees with Arthur’s hands steadying her, she positioned herself and slowly began to sink down. He was perfectly gentlemanly as she took her time, adjusting to the girth inch by inch until he was finally seated inside her. She sighed softly, contentedly, and ran her fingers through the hair at the back of his head.

“Alright?” She asked, realising he hadn’t so much as moved a muscle since she’d sat down. He nodded, forehead pressed to her shoulder, breath coming quickly. His fingers held her hips hard enough to bruise, a sight she was sure to wake up to in the morning. She didn’t mind so much.

Soothing her fingers along his scalp, Arthur slowly raised his head and, with a love-struck smile on his face, tentatively flexed his hips. Riley hummed as he shifted within her, repositioning himself and spreading his thighs a little more for balance. He let his head rest on her shoulder again as she slowly rose up on her knees, almost lifting off him completely before sinking back down to meet his thighs. She could feel the tension in his shoulders as she laid her arms around his neck, the raw strength he was holding back as he tried to resist the urge to fuck her into the mattress. She grinned, found his ear, and traced her tongue gently around the shell of it before speaking.

“Don’t hold back.”

And, _fuck_ , he didn’t.

Riley was suddenly on her back, her legs wound tightly around Arthur’s waist as he slammed home. He was wound so tight she didn’t think he’d last, and she was right judging by his erratic thrusts. She could feel the tension rise in his stomach, the irregularity in his breathing, but it still didn’t stop him from reaching a hand between them both to press his fingers insistently against her clit. Riley gasped, her head falling back into the pillows as he worked her in time to his thrusts.

“ _Sweetheart_ , I ain’t gonna-“ Riley hushed him with her a biting kiss.

Oversensitive, far too gone to care, she felt her second orgasm wash through her body from the tips of her fingers to the root of every hair. With one final erratic thrust, she felt Arthur reach his limit too, the rhythmic pulsing of her around him pushing him over the edge. With a swift movement, he pulled himself free from her and released across her stomach. His shoulders were shaking as he worked himself through it into his own fist, Riley’s hands soothing his arms as he attempted to slide to the side to not collapse on top of her. He landed on his back, breathless and even coughing a little from the excursion. Riley grinned, a job well done and a man well fucked. It was a good day.

Slowly, without much care for the ruined sheets, she cleaned herself up and tossed them onto the floor. From one of the large drawers in the corner of the room, she dragged a blanket over to the bed, tossing it over both herself and Arthur as she climbed in beside him. He took her in his arms, pressing her back to his chest and a leg between her thighs, his face hidden in the hair at her neck.

“Tired?” She asked, reaching back to lovingly thread her fingers through his hair. All she got was a grunt, but it was good enough for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I did over 50,000 words in just over a month! Talk about commitment, huh? 
> 
> I've been absolutely obsessed with The Witcher on Netflix recently as well, so maybe that'll be my next project after this? 
> 
> As always, comments, feedback and kudos are very welcome. <3


	20. Blue (Green) eyed girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Blue Eyed Girl by The Arcadian Wild -
> 
> "I'll march right along to your beat. The rhythm of your spirit makes me feel much more alive.  
> There's wisdom in the way you speak and I see "I love you" in your eyes."

_Sometimes I wonder why I have the most rotten luck. From luck of the man I was born to, the luck of my lot in life, the luck of constantly being on the run. But sometimes, though that weird cloud of bad luck, I get a ray of good luck. Used to be that I considered a good take that ray of sunshine, but now I realise I have been sorely missing out._

_Jameson is something else. She’s spitfire and salt when she’s gotta be, but then she’s soft and lovely and all loving like. I can’t quite get my head around why she chose to stick around with me. She calls me handsome and maybe, somewhere deep inside, I could begin to believe her._

Arthur awoke to the crowing of a bird that sat on the balcony edge of their window. It spread its wings, crawed into the rising sun, and took flight as quick as a bullet from a gun. Slowly he let himself adjust to the feeling of waking up in a solid, comfortable bed. His back was cushioned by softness rather than rough blankets and pelts, and a comfortable weight lay on his chest. He hummed, a deep burr in his chest as he tried to remember how to open his eyes and use his limbs. Slowly, slower now he realised there was a pleasant ache in his forearms, Arthur rubbed at his eyes with one hand. His other, he slowly began to see, was trapped beneath a very warm body tucked into his side. When he opened his eyes he felt a warm smile cross his lips, memories of the day before flitting through his mind like lazy leaves on a summers breeze.

Riley lay in the crook of his arm, her head on her shoulder and her face tucked into his neck. He could feel the slow and steady breaths brush across his skin, and the gentle thrum of her heart where his fingers lightly traced circles on her shoulder. Her hair, a mess of thick dark curls, lay like a halo around her head. He gently lifted his free hand to tuck a strand behind her ear, delighted when she gave a small hum in her deep sleep.

Arthur had never been able to sleep for very long, even in his youth. Maybe it was a side effect of being on the run and having to leave at a moments notice. He was a light sleeper, an opportunist for short naps, but this morning he felt better rested than he had in years. He felt content. He hadn’t been plagued with nightmares or dreams, nothing at all but blissful silence and a constant warmth in his side.

As much as he hated the idea, Arthur knew his stomach would soon get loud enough to wake her, so he figured he’d rouse her now to keep the peace. Slowly his fingers travelled from tracing shapes on her shoulder to follow the line of her spine, earning him a light shiver. In their sleep the blanket had bunched down around their waists, so he could see when goosebumps erupted on her arms. The sight made him smile, so he did it again, gently dipping his fingers in the dimple on her lower back. He didn’t feel the usual urgency of their frantic couplings, the intense arousal they usually contended with on a time limit. Today there was none of that. Nothing else mattered in that moment.

Rubbing his rough palm against Riley’s arm, Arthur turned a little to kiss her forehead gently, fingers raising to stroke through her hair again as he heard her suck in a long breath. Fluttering awake, Riley’s eyes blinked blearily as Arthur pressed kisses to her cheeks, her nose, her jaw, her neck. Everywhere he could access, he pressed feather-light kisses.

“Mornin’…” She mumbled, a smile stretching across her lips as she languidly rolled onto her back in a lazy stretch. Arthur followed, leaning up on his elbow to hover over her with a lazy grin on his own lips. He kissed her once, on the mouth, quickly.

“Mornin’.” He greeted her back, fingers trailing odd shapes across her ribs. He felt her shiver beneath him, and followed as she tilted her head up to give him access to her neck. Feather-light kisses turned a little wetter as he dragged his teeth across her pulse point. Her breath hitched, and one of her hands came to tangle in his hair which made him almost _melt_.

“Mmm… Had a dream about you last night.” Riley said, voice still thick with sleep. Arthur hummed in approval and nuzzled into her clavicle as he slipped lower to her chest. He pressed kisses to her breasts, cupping one in his hand whilst his mouth paid the utmost attention to the other.

“Dreamed you were in the woods hunting deer.” Riley continued, scratching her fingers lazily through Arthur’s hair and if she didn’t know what that _did_ to him he was about to make it known.

“…You came back with a huge buck, pleased as punch, and _ah_ -“ He heard her breath catch as he took her nipple between his teeth, grazing gently before applying the same lazy suction he had to many previous kisses on her neck and shoulders. His reward was a gentle tug of his hair, which he caused him to burr appreciatively. She was getting the _idea_ now.

“And we ate well that night.” Riley continued with her dream, but when Arthur looked up she was smiling and had her eyes closed as she leaned into his touches. “And we’d found a… like a cabin or somethin’ and somehow got ourselves in there with a nice fire an’…” Riley sighed softly, pitched higher than usual as Arthur shifted to give the same attention to her other nipple, lovingly worshipping every part of her with his mouth.

“And then what?” Arthur asked, briefly stopping his touches to speak in a gruff voice. He went straight back to work, rolling his tongue around her nipple and delighting in the way her fingers _clenched_ in his hair.

“And then you laid me down by the fire and did exactly what you’re doing now.” Riley finished, fingernails scratching down the back of his neck so gently it felt like a tickle. He shivered, feeling the swell of his own arousal pressed against the bed.

“Sounds like a nice dream.” Arthur hummed, rising back up to lather attention on her jaw and neck again. Riley hummed in agreement, opening her eyes. He felt her fingers return to his hair, and a low groan sounded in his throat.

“It was. I’d just got to the part where you had me on my stomach on the floor, covering every inch of me with yourself, going so slow it was-“ Riley didn’t have much opportunity to speak after that. Arthur’s lips encased hers quickly, drawing all manner of sounds from her lips that he swallowed down gratefully. His fingers found her hip and continued down until he dipped them between her thighs. She was already so _wet_ , practically soaking his fingers when he pulled away to taste them. Below him, she looked so thoroughly fucked out already that he couldn’t help himself. He dropped another kiss to her lips before gently urging her to turn onto her stomach. Riley followed his hand’s pushing, eagerly settling into position with her head pillowed in her arms and her back arching just so _prettily_ that Arthur wanted to draw it.

He trailed gentle kisses down her spine, shifting to kneel between her thighs. His hands framed her hips, tugging her into his lap a little more before he slowly shifted to cover her with his body. He propped himself on his arms and buried his face into her shoulders, hungrily lapping at the sweat that gathered there. He tasted the salt on his tongue, her shiver going straight to his cock as he gradually pushed inside. Gently, lovingly, he pressed kisses to the shoulder with the wound she’d sustained about the same time he’d got hit. In a weirdly poetic way, they matched. In one fell thrust of his hips and he was sheathed, fully enclosed in her heat. The burring in his chest turned into a long groan as he pressed his forehead to the top of her spine. His breath came quicker, more heated as he began to move. Riley, for all her composure, was mewling gently into the pillow beneath them. He felt her clench around him as he hit a specific angle, so he aimed for that spot as best he could with his limited motion. They touched everywhere, legs entangled and bodies aligned, lips pressed to skin and hands clenched in sheets. He moved slowly, making more of a grinding motion than a thrusting one, which he knew was gratefully appreciated as Riley’s hand shot out to grip his where it was balled into a fist in the bedsheets. Their fingers entwined, her smaller hand in his large one, and he felt the pulse of her heartbeat through her wrist.

They stayed like that for a good while, connected in more ways than the obvious. Arthur lavished her back and shoulders with kisses and bites, littering her sun-kissed skin with his lips, tongue and teeth. He was on edge, muscles tense, as he began to thrust in earnest. His eyes were closed as he focused on the sensations of his skin on fire, so focused in fact he didn’t notice when Riley slipped her hand between her body and the bed to work frantically at herself with swift, practised motions. Arthur heard her curse and felt her body stiffen. Her insides pulsed around his cock as she came, and Arthur had to quickly pull free from her to find his own release across her bare back.

Panting, breathing in the sex filled warm air, Riley melted into the bed. She gave a lazy hum and turned to look at him, just barely, over her shoulder.

“Mornin’.” She said again, though this time her eyes were bright and her lips were curled into a grin. Arthur couldn’t help the matching look that spread across his own features.

“Hungry, Darlin’?” He asked as he stood from the bed to tidy her up with a towel from the hotel. Once clean he cleaned himself up, and began pulling on his jeans. Riley simply lay on her front in the bed, the blankets pooled around her waist and her arms tucked under her head. Arthur smiled as she watched him pull on his shirt and tuck it back into his jeans. When he was dressed again, boots on and belt in place, Arthur knelt beside the bed to tuck a stray hair behind Riley’s ear. He watched her for a moment, tracing the tips of his fingers across her cheek.

“I’m gonna go find somethin’ for us to eat. Stay here?” Riley hummed in agreement, tired eyes closing once more as Arthur pressed the gentlest of kisses to her forehead.

He was gone for about half an hour by the time he came back to the room. In his arms, he had a tray with their breakfast piled on top. He’d managed to get in early, so the cook had all the fresh food out. Leave it to a fancy hotel to just make breakfast and let people eat whatever they wanted. He’d piled their plates high with eggs and bacon before grabbing an entire pot of freshly brewed coffee and two cups.

Riley was asleep when he put their meal down on the side table, that or snoozing. She didn’t stir as he shut the door quietly, or even when he sat down in the chair opposite the bed and took out his journal. Breakfast now forgotten, Arthur focused on sketching.

She lay in the same position she’d been in when he left. Looking so comfortable sprawled on her stomach on a lavish bed with that patchwork blanket low on her hips. He sketched the way her arms curved under her head, the way her face was half-hidden by a flyaway bundle of hair, the way her lashes framed her cheeks so delicately. He was so enraptured in his drawing that he hardly noticed his own stomach growling impatiently. He’d just managed to capture the last curl of her hair as she stirred, eyes blinking open. Arthur stopped mid-sketch, a light pink flush rising to his cheeks and ears, as Riley looked him over. She simply smiled, and perked up when Arthur began to bring her breakfast over.

They sat together for a while, talking quietly about the day ahead. Riley, in all her casual comfort, sat with just the blanket around her waist and nothing more. It was all Arthur could do not to ravish her against the sheets again, to make her come once more with his name on her lips and her head thrown back in pure ecstasy. He could, but he wouldn’t. God above, he wanted to capture this image of her with a coffee cup in her hands, leaned against the headboard as she was. Gorgeous.

“We should head back to camp.” Riley said after they’d finished eating, empty plates stacked up on the tray. They were both onto their second coffee when Riley found it appropriate to get herself dressed. Arthur watched, unashamed and pleased with his lot in life as she pulled on her jeans. When she was tucking in her shirt he felt the urge to touch her again, just gently. To spread his hand across her stomach and press himself to her back. To touch her cheek with his thumb, to stroke the tips of his fingers along the line of her jaw. He wanted to, but he didn’t.

Instead, he packed their things. Slowly, methodically putting his journal back into his satchel. He was almost done when he felt a gentle touch to his middle. Riley’s arms enveloped him from behind, her body pressing against his, her lips finding his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt. She kissed where he’d been shot not three weeks ago. He sighed, closed his eyes, and turned around to indulge himself once more. His arms wound around her waist, holding her close, and she drew her arms around his neck at the same time. He held her close, one hand settled on her lower back and the other between her shoulder blades. He breathed her in, all coffee and honeysuckle, and almost melted when he felt her fingers thread through his hair. It felt divine. It felt _intimate_. Arthur hadn’t realised how desperate he’d been for this until now.

“Thank you.” She whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.

“For what?” He asked, not relenting in his grip.

“For… Everything.” She said, and he hated how vulnerable and unsure her voice sounded. Arthur hummed and pulled back just enough to press their foreheads together.

“Darlin’, you’ve given me a whole lot more than I ever gave you.” He said, honestly ragged in his throat. “I’m still havin’ a hard time believin’ you want t’ be with a fool like me but… You’re _convincin’_ me, somehow.”

To see the smile light up on her lips was something special, and Arthur filed the memory away to see if he could capture it in his journal.

“We gotta go.” Arthur said after a minute, reluctantly letting her go to grab his things.

They left the hotel with full stomachs and fuller hearts. The ride back to camp was filled with nonsensical chatter, both of them sharing stories and trading back anecdotes. It seemed far too soon that they arrived back at camp and everyone wanted something from him. Riley had already hitched her horse and was brushing her fur when Arthur was asked to go hunting by Pearson, go on a stage robbery with Javier, and head into Rhodes to meet Sean, Micah and Bill all at once. Apparently they were waiting for him now. He cast Riley a grimace to which she simply shrugged, but it was worth it to see her smile like that.

The town was unusually quiet when Arthur rode in. He met the boys and asked what the plan was, immediately unsure of the situation. He walked just behind Bill and Micah, wary of what the men were saying, jaw clenched as he tried to mull around the uncertain feeling in his stomach. The further they walked, the more Bill and Micah tried to convince him it was legit, the more Arthur wanted to high tail it out of there. This felt like a trap.

He was right. Of course he was. Sean lay dead in a puddle of his own blood and torn flesh before him. Right at his feet. The poor boy, hardly a man, gone in the blink of an eye. His hair, redder than he’d ever seen it, soaked through. Eyes once full of life now completely devoid of it. Shots were firing before Arthur could even process what had happened. He ran behind a barrel, ducked down away from the guns, and pulled his pistol.

Someone should have known. Bill should have guessed, Micah shouldn’t have been there, that man just attracted trouble. And Dutch? Dutch letting this happen? Knowing the danger, knowing they were playing both sides of two ancient families? He’d let this happen. It had all felt off the minute he stepped foot in town. It was then that he realised that his family was falling apart at the seams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Always open to suggestions for what you may like to see from this couple <3


	21. Compass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Compass by Christian Larsson -
> 
> "Now I know the only compass that I need  
> Oh is the one leads back to you."
> 
> Finally. FINALLY, Micah gets what's coming to him.

For a brief few hours, everything was rose coloured and perfect. When Arthur is dragged out of the camp to meet the boys in town, Riley takes the opportunity to spend some much-needed quality time with the girls. The first person she saw was Tilly doing the meal preparations with Pearson. She made her way over to the younger girl to offer a hand, and for some time spent chopping vegetables and skinning rabbits for the stew. They chatted politely, more like good friends than anything else. It was nice. It was peaceful.

After the food was prepared she went to find Abigail but found the girl busy looking for Jack. That boy did have a way with wandering off, and it wasn’t uncommon to hear her pacing the camp calling his name. So Riley went in search of chores instead. Admittedly she thought better of it when she laid eyes on Miss Grimshaw scolding Karen by the scout fire, so she hastily retreated to the water’s edge. There was no way in hell she was going to willingly cross the path of a banshee, not while she still had her wits about her. By the water she found Sadie polishing a brand new rifle, pleased as punch when it came up shinier than a brass coin. Riley sat down heavily on the old fallen tree beside her, a pleasant smile on her face as she began to similarly clean her own revolver. A gentle silence came over them, and aside from a small nod in greeting, neither woman spoke for a time. Riley was content to let the gentle sounds of the river fill her mind and the laughter and merriment from the camp behind them.

“You look thoroughly fucked out,” Sadie said, offhandedly, as if she were merely discussing the weather. Riley grinned, throwing her a side-eye.

“That obvious?” She asked, and both girls laughed.

“So… who’s the lucky feller?” Sadie asked, putting her gun down so she could stretch out against the tree and take in that midday heat. Riley grinned again, though this time with a slight flush to her cheeks.

“Well… I don’t particularly know if he want’s that information shared.” She teased, laying her hat on the ground beside Sadie’s gun. The blonde woman simply snorted and shrugged, looking over her shoulder.

“Treats you right, though?” She asked, a brow raised in question. Riley hummed, giving Sadie a knowing nod and another sly smirk. Both girls nodded at the seriousness of the question before descending into a fit of giggles. When she was finally able to sit upright on the log without her stomach twitching with laughter, Riley swept her hair to the side and began to braid it thoroughly between her fingers.

“Y’know, I didn’t think I’d stick around with this rough and tumble gang of misfits. I’m glad I did.” Sadie said, leisurely stretching her arms out in front of herself. “After Jakey I just felt so lost, I didn’t know what to do. Lost my home, my husband, my future… All gone up in smoke.”

They’d compared their stories before, but never in any detail. Riley gave a small hum and slid down to sit with her back against the tree as Sadie was. It was a small gesture, but the other woman must have known she was listening because she carried on with her story.

“O’Driscoll’s… sons of bitches killed him in front of me. Kept me locked in my own house and _took_ me again and again on my own marital bed.” Sadie’s fingers twitched, and Riley felt a similar itch for a bottle of whiskey or beer. Instead, she simply held out her hand and took Sadie’s twitching fingers between her own. A gentle touch, just a small comfort. Sadie blinked and gave Riley a small nod.

“They took my ma, and both my brothers. Burnt down my house, stole our animals, slaughtered what they didn’t want. I was so lucky to get away unharmed… I can’t imagine what you went through.” Riley’s voice was soft and gentle as she spoke, and Sadie’s fingers squeezed around hers gently. She understood.

“Fuck ‘em.” She said, suddenly. Sadie looked up, slightly surprised by the words before falling into a smile similar to the one Riley wore. “Fuck ‘em, Sadie. They ain’t worth your thoughts. One day, you an’ I? We’re gonna get our revenge.”

Both girls sat like that for a few minutes, breathing in the heavy promise of revenge. It felt real, it felt solid, and for the first time in years, Riley felt like they may actually be able to seek it out.

It was slowly becoming mid-afternoon by the time Riley and Sadie finally began making their way back to camp. Upon their arrival, they were set upon by a beast so ferocious and so fearful, that both women flinched and backed up.

“Miss Adler! Miss Jameson! Where on Earth have you been?!” Miss Grimshaw’s shrill voice made Riley’s eyes go wide and her palms fly up in defence.

“The boy is missing! Have either of you seen him?”

“Jack’s gone?” Sadie asked, hands balling into fists. Riley felt a chill roll down her spine.

“We don’t know! Abigail, poor thing, she’s beside herself. The boy don’t usually stay away this long.” Even Riley could see the pinched expression on Grimshaw’s face, the way worry clung in her words. Riley squared her shoulders, glanced around the camp, and took stock of what she could see.

Most of the camp was now looking for Jack in the nearby area. She could see Dutch and Hosea speaking quietly to Abigail calming her down as the others began to search the bushes and shoreline of the lake. Riley and Sadie joined the search, each splitting off to check the tents and lean-tos that made up their camp. Pearson, Uncle, Strauss and Trelawny all searching with them.

Riley checked the chicken coop, remembering the one time she’d found Jack in there trying to put a flower necklace on a rooster. She checked underneath the wagons, knowing the boy sometimes liked to play hide and seek, and even in his own tent under the blankets. He was nowhere to be seen, and worry steadily mounted in her heart. Thankfully she heard the sounds of hooves as some of the men returned to camp.

Riley rushed back to the main fire when she saw Arthur hitching his horse but paused when she saw the look on his face. Something had happened, she could tell. He had blood on his coat and anger in his eyes, but whatever it was had to wait.

“Arthur! Have you seen the boy, Jack?” Dutch asked, pacing out from a conversation between Miss Grimshaw, Kieran and Strauss.

“No.” Arthur replied, surprise evident on his features.

“Where’s my goddamn son?! Where is he? Where is my _son_?! They took him, didn’t they?! They _took_ my _son_!” Abigail was hysterical, tears streaking down her cheeks as she stormed straight up to Dutch. She was terrifying, a force to be reckoned with as she stabbed a finger directly into Dutch’s chest. The man backed up a little, hands up in defence, and Riley had to admit it was probably the smartest move. _If looks could kill._

“Who took him?” Arthur asked, voice calmer than he looked.

“We think the Braithwaite woman took him,” Hosea stated, pacing agitatedly towards them from behind the tents. “That Kieran saw a couple of fellers sounded like Braithwaite boys.” He was pointing in the direction of Braithwaite manor. Riley paced forwards, hand on her pistol, eager to help.

“Where’s my son? If anything…” She broke off, clutched her hair, voice breaking as she glared daggers at Dutch. “Where is my _son_ , Dutch van der Linde?”

“We will find him, we will bring him back to you and we will kill any fool that had the _temerity_ to touch one _hair_ on that boy’s head. Abigail, you have my _word_.” Dutch’s words seemed to soothe most of the camp members, and for once Riley let herself believe it. Abigail looked so defeated it broke her heart. It wasn’t long before John was pacing over, jaw tight and eyes dark. He had his hand on his gun, fingers twitching like he wanted to shoot the next thing to look at him funny.

“Just get me back my son.” Abigail pleaded, her voice cracked as she clutched at her arms around her small body.

“I will get that boy back, so help me god- right now.” Dutch’s voice was gruff as he began pacing towards the horses with Arthur, John and Hosea in tow. Riley took the opportunity to wind her arms around Abigail, catching the poor girl against her chest as she broke down into sobs.

“Dutch! We just heard about Jack. Need some extra guns?” Charles, Javier, Bill, they were all saddling up as Dutch waved them over.

“Yeah why not. Micah, Kieran, anyone strange turns up you kill ‘em! Rest of you, let’s ride!”

It felt like war. Riley wasn’t sure what was happening, but she knew Arthur would be in the middle of it all. Miss Grimshaw hurried over to take the poor sobbing mother into her arms, doing a far better job of consoling her than Riley ever could. Now free, she took the opportunity to sprint over to Arthur’s horse, grabbing the reigns in her right hand before he could take off after the men.

“Wait! I’ll come!” She said, fixing to climb onto the saddle behind him.

“No. No, they need you here. They need a capable gun. Kieran’s a good kid but he’s soft, and I don’t trust Micah one bit.” He had a hard-set look on his face, hands covered in dried blood that peeled from his skin at the slightest movement. Riley pleaded with him with her eyes, but she was fighting a losing battle.

_Don’t leave._

Arthur looked over his shoulder as his brothers began to disappear into the forest. He looked back at Riley, grabbed her hand in one of his, and squeezed her fingers gently to get her to release the reigns. She did so, but only because he slipped his thumb into her palm and pressed a swift kiss to her knuckles.

“Keep ‘em safe for me, Jameson. I’ll be back. _Promise_.” He said those words like an oath, and he was off like a shot, spurring Gypsy on with a crack of the reigns and a sharp command. Riley stepped back, sucked in a deep breath, and mentally prepared herself for the shit-show that was sure to greet her when he came back home.

The evening came far too fast for Riley’s liking. Being the loudmouth that he was, Micah had told everyone left in camp what had occurred that day in Rhodes. From what little detail they had they knew they’d lost Sean, and a searing sense of grief threatened to topple them. But they were stronger, and after taking a quiet moment to herself Miss Grimshaw took it upon herself to organise. After speaking with Kieran, the girls, and Riley they’d set out a plan of action. Kieran and Sadie were to take the first watch, and would alert them should the men return. Karen, Tilly and Mary-Beth were to sort through the medical wagon, preparing anything and everything they may need should things go south. Pearson had been tasked with going into town to grab some more supplies with Uncle and a list written by Miss Grimshaw of things they may need immediately. Riley focused on Abigail, talking her down from wanting to ride with the men and then talking her down again when she wanted to search for Jack in the dark. It was foolish, and the only way she could calm the poor girl was to put her to work. Riley stuck to Abigail like a fly on horseshit, constantly putting her hands to work to keep her busy, keep her mind occupied and away from the possibilities of her missing child.

It worked, for the most part. Abigail would clean around the chuckwagon almost obsessively, wiping a rag over the tables and cleaning dishes. It was almost working, too, if it hadn’t have been for Micah.

“You know, if the boy didn’t have such an idiot for a father maybe he’d have some brain cells in that head o’ his to know not to go with strangers,” Micah said, beer in hand and entirely too casual for a man whose entire gang was out on a frantic rescue mission. Riley could hear him talking to nobody in particular as he sat by himself, feet up on the round table. His boots flaked mud everywhere, and it was an irrational detail like that, which caused Riley to ball her hands into fists. She dropped the scrubbing brush she was using on a plate and sucked in a small breath to calm herself.

“Speakin’ o’ which… Abigail if you don’t get your son back, I would be happy to lend a hand in makin’ some more little rugrats. God knows my seed’s probably ten times better than whatever Marston’s been pumpin’ into ya.” He laughed cynically, slurped on his beer, and gave a too loud gasp once he swallowed. It boiled Riley, and she could see the way Abigail’s shoulders shook as she scrubbed at a big pot, red-rimmed eyes unfocused and glassy.

“Yep, anytime you want it, girl, you jus’ come to my tent an-“ He didn’t finish the sentence. Hopefully, Riley thought as she slammed the edge of her pistol against the back of his head, he wouldn’t be finishing sentences like that ever again.

Micah collapsed against the table, face down with a groan. He tried to sit back up but Riley quickly kicked him off the chair with her boot, throwing a swift kick to his stomach to double him over.

“Abigail, could you be a doll and find me some rope? We got a mangy dog we need to tie up in case it bites someone.” Riley said, catching her breath as she watched Micah squirm on the ground. It was satisfying, especially when Miss Grimshaw happened to be busily working on putting more wood on the fire, obviously too busy to notice. Her hand hurt from the angle she’d hit Micah with her gun, so she flexed it as she holstered the pistol again.

“You whore-“ Micah spat, trying to get up onto his knees. He looked unsteady, and Riley hoped she’d given him some kind of brain damage. She kicked him again, this time aiming for the ribs as Abigail brought her some thick rope. With a smile, she began to hogtie Micah a skill she’d only recently picked up from Charles on a hunting trip. She tied the ropes as best she could before flipping him over so she could see the hatred on his face.

“There! See now, ain’t it so peaceful when you shut the fuck up? Another word from you an’ I’ll see you to that boat over there, and push you out into the river without an ore.” Riley’s voice was calm and sweet, soothed by the fact that she was able to take out her frustrations on this lesser man. She could see some of the girls giggling behind closed hands, and she knew that would wound his pride. She almost hoped he’d speak.

“You stupid bitch, you think you’re so tough?! Untie me! Damn it, girl, I’ll kill you! Mother f-” A swift kick to the dick shut him up. She relished in the way his eyes bulged and his breath cut off in a pained gasp. Riley tutted as she stood straight, pursing her lips like she was considering Micah’s words.

“Yeah, see, those things you just said seem like yer just askin’ to be put in time out.” She said, standing up to grab hold of Micah’s forearm. She didn’t have the strength to lift him, the big bastard that he was, but she was able to drag him face down through the mud down to the lake at least. With a grin, she saw Karen following her, and together both women hefted Micah kicking and swearing into the little boat they used for fishing.

“You’ll regret this, you crazy bitch!” He twisted in the boat, flipping onto his side so he could spit aggressively at both the women standing over him. Riley pulled the ores out of the boat and dropped them on the floor, before pushing her foot against the boat and sending it out on the water.

“Micah, Micah, Micah!” Riley scolded, “Has anyone ever told you that you are as ugly as homemade sin?”

Karen snorted, watching with fire in her eyes as Riley used one of the ores to further push Micah out into the lake. She smiled, sat the ore on her shoulders, and listened to his fading curses. Finally, some fucking peace and quiet.

It was late when the men came back. Thankfully nobody was injured, but they were all exhausted and clearly downtrodden. They’d returned without Jack, much to Riley’s discontent. Abigail had stormed into her tent, quickly followed by John and what followed was an argument so loud it scared the grouse from the nearby forest. Arthur had trudged in last, of course. Lagging behind, so damn tired looking that Riley had to help him down from his horse. She brought him over to his bedroll, settled him down, and pulled up a familiar chair to sit in front of him with his hands between her own.

“Been a day.” He said after a little while, jaw set as he stared at the ground. At this point she thought it best to stay quiet, to simply be with him and allow the man his time. She’d heard about what had happened in Rhodes. Sean, the poor boy, however annoying, had almost seemed like family to her. She was steadily beginning to realise that most of the group were like family to her. Arthur Morgan, especially.

“Want to talk about it?” She asked, after a few moments of silence. Arthur sighed, and shook his head. He took off his hat and set it aside on the table, wiping the day’s dirt from his forehead. He bowed his head to kiss Riley’s knuckles again, this time lingering in the bowed position. She took the opportunity to lay one of her hands gently on the back of his neck, soothing her thumb up and down as he took a moment to compose himself. The night was drawing closer to dawn, and neither of them had slept. Thankfully most members of the group were either sleeping or drinking, too absorbed in their own routines to care about the two of them. Micah, somehow, had gotten free of his binds and swam to shore an hour or so before the men arrived. He’d said nothing as he stalked over to his pack, picked up a few things, and made his way to his horse. He’d ridden out to nurse his wounded pride, something Riley hoped would never fully recover.

The night sky was dark, painted with very gentle etchings of purple as dawn threatened its arrival. She gave a short sigh and moved to sit on the bed. Methodically she took off her boots and then her jacket, setting her hat down atop of Arthur’s. He followed her lead, removing his own boots and coat. With a rag from Arthur’s shaving station, Riley cleaned the dried blood from his hands. She was gentle, removing all traces of Sean from them before kissing his palms tenderly. Once finished she shuffled up onto the bed to lean against the wagon, Arthur mimicking her as she wound an arm around his large shoulders. It wasn’t very comfortable but it was the best they could do considering the small space. She let her fingers twist through his sweat-damp hair, smoothing out knots and curls. He ever so slowly leaned into her, pressing half his back to her chest and his head to her shoulder, relaxing significantly under her touch.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered into the darkness. “I’m sorry about Sean. I know you loved him like a brother.” Arthur didn’t speak, but he reached for her free hand to entwine their fingers together. She knew her words were appreciated.

Softly a three-word sentence drifted through her mind. She considered the words, the heavy implication, and thought better of it. Not now. Not while he was grieving a fallen friend. Instead, she waited until his breathing slowed enough to be considered sleep, and she traced the letters of those three words on the inside of his wrist.

_I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading! I'm thinking of writing a chapter about Mary Linton, what do you reckon? I'd like to know what you guys want to see in this fic! 
> 
> Much love <3


	22. Hopeless Wanderer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Hopeless Wanderer by Mumford and Sons - 
> 
> "I wrestled long with my youth  
> We tried so hard to live in the truth  
> But do not tell me all is fine  
> When I lose my head, I lose my spine"
> 
> (If I could post all the lyrics here I would because this song is perfect ngl)

_Sean has been killed._

_I’m more sad than I can admit. I loved that little loud mouthed wretch more than I knew – he was like an annoying little brother to me. What fun we had riding together – and now, he’s dead. His head shot half off in an ambush. What a goddamn mess we are making of things._

_Still NO confederate GOLD, but a shit load of trouble. I fear we may be bringing the law down on ourselves without even realising it._

_While everything around me seems to be falling to pieces, at least I have one solid good thing to lean on. Jameson has become like a crux to me. She knows, without me saying anything, just what’s going on in my head. Sometimes I think maybe she reads minds._

It’s mid-morning by the time Arthur wakes from a restless sleep. Feeling more tired than the night before, he sat up from his stooped position against his wagon and slowly peeled himself out of Riley’s arms. She gave a soft hum, her brows pulling together as he gently manoeuvred her down onto the bed. Slowly, he pulled the blanket up to her shoulders, letting her rest a little more as he pulled on a clean jacket and his boots.

At the round table, Dutch and Hosea sat with John. They were talking in hushed tones when Dutch spotted Arthur skulking over to them, shoulders squared as he lit a cigarette between his lips.

“It’s gonna work out, John.” Hosea said, as Arthur stooped to press his boot onto one of the boxes they used as chairs. “It’ll work out, listen to Dutch.”

“I don’t expect you to understand this, but I have never been more proud of you than I am right now, brother. You’re doing the right thing.” Dutch’s voice was low, prideful as he spoke. Arthur recognised that tone; it was used when he was trying to calm a man down, talk him down from the ledge.

“If I don’t get that boy back safe I’m… sh-she’ll kill us _all_.” John stuttered, worrying his hands together beneath the table. It was something he did when he was scared, Arthur noticed. He used to do it a lot when they were young boys.

“I know. But looking at this logically, that boy is _fine_. They took him to scare us. Nobody takes a boy to _harm_ him.” Dutch said, leaning empathetically across the table to try and catch John’s gaze.

“He’s right, John.” Hosea chimed in, leaning back to appraise the youngest between them.

“What do you think, Arthur?” Dutch asked, directing a hand at him.

“The boy’ll be fine but… of course Marston’s scared rotten. We killed all those people we stirred up all that trouble for nothin’.” Arthur scoffed, resting a hand on his knee as he locked eyes with Dutch.

“ _No_ , no not for nothin’. For livin’. Now we get that boy back and we go. _Trust me_.” Arthur had a feeling that Dutch was about to wax poetic about his philosophies and plans when Lenny shouted from behind them. Thankful, this once, for the intrusion, Arthur turned and felt his blood turn cold.

“Hey Dutch? We got a problem.”

“Not a problem… Visitors. A solution.”

From behind him came a familiar voice, one Arthur had dreaded hearing since the day he took Jack fishing. Milton, and his partner Ross. Pinkerton’s with guns on their hips, law badges on their shirts, and pockets full of Cornwall’s money. A stone dropped in his stomach as he turned slowly to face the men. Just the two of them, were they fools? Walking into a den of wolves like that… it screamed disrespect.

“Good day, fine people. Mr Van der Linde. Mr Mathews, I presume. And who are you?” Milton squinted his eyes at John as if trying to put a face to one of the many bounty posters he was sure to have squirrelled away somewhere.

“Rip Van Winkle.” John replied, slowly pulling his revolver from his holster. Arthur subtly made a gesture with his palm flat beside his own hip, and John cooled off a little. Now wasn’t the time for gunslinging. Now was the time for paying attention.

“ _Huh_. Good day, sir. Agent Milton, Pinkerton Detective Agency. Agent Ross.” He introduced himself and his partner with such ease that Arthur couldn’t help but step forward, his hulking frame usually enough to intimidate tougher men than these.

“Ahhhh, Mr Morgan! Nice to see you again.” He began, cut off by Dutch before he could say anything more.

“And to what do we owe the pleasure, agent Moron?” A few scattered laughs at Dutch’s words, the group was closing in around them, most of whom held guns.

At Arthur’s right side he felt a body come closer. Riley had woken up amongst the nearing chaos and was beside him, face unreadable and hand on her pistol. She caught Arthur’s eye for a split second and he glanced away, focusing back on the ‘visitors’. Subtly he shifted his weight towards her, taking half a step forward until he was sure, if needed, he could stand in front of her.

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but this… this is a civilised land now. We didn’t kill all those _savages_ only to allow for the likes of you to act like human dignity and basic decency was outmoded or not yet invented. This thing; It’s _done_.” Milton was speaking to them all, gesturing to their camp. Arthur’s fingers twitched where they rested on his holstered guns, waiting for the lightning in the air to break the glass bottle that contained it.

“This place… ain’t no such thing as civilised. It’s man, so in love with greed, he has forgotten himself and found only _appetites_.” Dutch spat the words, Hosea hovering by his arm, eyes flickering between the two men in a similar way to how Arthur looked at them. The tension was palpable, yet nobody dared intervene just yet.

“And as a consequence that lets you take what you please, kill whom you please, and hang the rest of us?” Dutch exchanged a look with Arthur, a look that said he had this under control. He was evoking emotion now, a sign that maybe the Pinkertons weren’t as well put together as they had thought. “Who made you the messiah to these lost souls you’ve led so horribly astray?”

“I’m nothing but a _seeker_ , Mr Milton.”

“You ain’t much of anything more than a killer, Mr Van der Linde. But I came to make a deal, it’s time. You come with me, and I give the rest of ya three days to run off, disappear, and go live like human beings someplace else.”

The offer hung in the air, tempting none of them, but Arthur felt the way Riley stiffened beside him. Her expression never changed, but he could see it in the subtle way her shoulders rose and the hairs on her arms rose.

“You came for me?” Dutch asked, smirking. “Risk life and limb in this den of lowlifes and murderers, so that they might _live_ and _love_? Ain’t that fine.” A ripple of laughter rolled through the camp, most of them acting and appearing relaxed and casual.

“I don’t wanna kill all these folk, Dutch. Just you.”

“In that case, it’ll be my honour to join you.” And then Dutch was walking forwards, hands in the air like he was surrendering, but there was something cocky about the way he walked and Arthur had to fight the smile that threatened to rise on his lips. “Excuse me, friends. I have an appointment to keep with…”

Dutch trailed off, his hands slowly dropping to his sides as several pistols, rifles and revolvers cocked at once. None of them rose, but they all came into view at once. A mass threat, a promise of carnage should these two invaders try anything stupid. Arthur didn’t even bother to take his gun or move to grab it. He simply stood, proud of his family, with his hands gripping his belt. Beside him, he noted that Riley had pulled her gun too, and a little swell of pride burst his heart. She looked so determined, small as she was compared to the two men, to take them on herself. It made the stone in his stomach feel ten times lighter.

“I think your new friend should leave now, Dutch.” Miss Grimshaw broke the silence, her words final as the Pinkertons were forced to take a few steps back.

“You’re making a big mistake! All of you!”

“Yeah. Dreadful. We have got something, something to live and to die for, how awful for us, Mr Milton. _Stop_ following us. We’ll be gone, soon.”

“I’m afraid I can’t. And when I return I’ll be with _fifty_ men. All of you will die! Run away from this place, you fools! Run!”

“Come on-“ Lenny stepped forward, bravado dripping off of him as he grabbed Milton by the arm and began to haul him out of camp. It was commendable, his effort. Arthur knew he’d make a fine gunslinger when he got a little older and wiser.

“Get your damn hands off me, boy!” Milton wrenched his arm back and skulked off, Ross trailing behind with his gun tightly enclosed in his hands.

“What now…?” Arthur sighed, lifting a hand to rub tiredly at the bridge of his nose.

“We get outta here. And quick.”

Arthur couldn’t agree more.

It took fifteen minutes for Arthur to ready his horse and show John the way to Shady Belle. It took half an hour after arriving to devoid the place of the scum that had infested it. After that, simply forty minutes to clean up the bodies and throw them into the swamps for the gaters to feast on.

The gang was a whirlwind of action when they arrived. Unpacking took precedent, but so did finding Jack. Dutch gave orders as to who was to do what and when, but it was Miss Grimshaw that ran the show. When his mentor and father figure asked him to take a ride, Arthur followed willingly. What was to follow would be days of work, little sleep, and Italians.

Everything was a mess. Two families at each other’s throats and their own, Sean, Jack, and now being run out of their camp by Pinkertons. It was all a lot more than Arthur had bargained for, a lot more than they’d dealt with in the past. And now, as he rode with Dutch into Saint Denis to find out everything and anything about this Bronte feller, he felt dread weigh in his gut like a lead bar.

Arthur spent the entire rest of the day and most of the next morning searching for Angelo Bronte. He chased down little bastard street children that stole from him, asked anyone and everyone willing to spare him a quick word until finally, he was onto something. He had a location, at the very least, to go back to Dutch with.

One lead led to another, John met them in the city at dusk, and before Arthur knew it he was roped into meeting with this Bronte man.

_I cannot decide which I like less. The swamps or the city. Both are full of parasites, reptiles and slime. We’re a long way east of the land we know, far from real open country._

Whilst waiting for John and Dutch he wrote a few lines in his journal, a moment’s peace as he considered what he was about to do. For all they knew this would be a bloodbath, but with Dutch by their side, they at least had a slim chance to talk their way through it. Maybe, just maybe, they’d get Jack back tonight.

It was a goddamn fool's errand, of course, going into a graveyard like that looking for grave robbers. After damn well near getting themselves killed they’d come back to Bronte’s mansion only to find their lost son sitting beside Dutch, waiting for them to come back. It irritated Arthur to no end to know that this mission, this exercise, had all been pointless and meaningless. Why couldn’t Bronte have handed over the boy without the fuss? He was so damn tired, but at least they had Jack back.

During the ride home, he churned about it, quietly mulling over his own thoughts as Jack rambled excitedly about having his own room, his toys, clothes, and other finery that none of them would ever experience. All that mattered was that he was safe, and a great weight was lifted off all three men’s shoulders as they journeyed home together. He even got to hear Marston apologise, a rarity that he’d only experienced a few times in his life. The man was bullheaded and unapologetic but he knew he owed Jack at least that much.

Arriving back at camp was as energetic as he’d thought it would be. Of course, Abigail ran up the entryway to Jack, enveloping him in her arms the second he was off John’s horse. There was laughter, the sound of bottles clanking as someone opened a beer crate. The telltale signs of a party about to happen, but Arthur felt the weariness in his bones begin to make itself known.

He watched as his family gathered around the fire together. He sat in the available space, leaning over his elbows to relax just a little bit. Arthur lit a cigarette and breathed in the smoke, letting it relax him from the warmth and rush. There was laughter as Javier brought out his guitar and began to sing, the rest of the group chiming in with out of time and slurred lyrics.

Something cold slipped against his arm, and Arthur looked up to see Riley stood to his right, a beer pressed to her lips and another in her outstretched hand. She smiled as he took it, and wound her arm around his shoulder as if to comfort him. It felt… nice. Mary would not have done this for him in the past. She wasn’t a fan of public displays of affection and, usually, neither was Arthur, but all it took was a gentle touch for him to melt into her hip. It was subtle, and you’d only notice if you really looked, but a small smile trailed along his lips as she gently caressed his neck with her palm.

Maybe he could allow himself to relax and enjoy the evening. It wasn’t so bad. With a gentle tug he urged her to sit on his lap, her arm winding around his shoulder like a blanket. Her fingers found his hat and peeled it from his head, stroking back the sweat-damp hair with her free hand. She was gentle as she traced the lines of his face, staring into his eyes like she could open the secrets to the earth. If his family hadn’t known about them they sure did now, and he found he couldn’t care in the slightest. Riley’s lips pressed to his temple, an affirmation that she was content and happy to be where she was. He hadn’t felt this calm in months, and undoubtedly wouldn’t for some time after.

There’s a lot to do now, Arthur thought bitterly. Just a little more money and they could leave, hightail it out of there and find somewhere warm and sunny to set up a permanent place to stay. He let himself imagine it for a moment. A cabin of their own, maybe their own little village or homestead where everyone had a bed. Maybe he’d wake up to the sounds of a rooster, and fresh eggs on the table. Maybe he’d wake up to Jameson, pressed to his chest and sleeping quietly in the nook of his arm. Maybe he’d let her sleep in and he’d make breakfast. Poorly. He’d scramble some eggs and cut some bread with cheese, and wake her up with beard rough kisses that she’d complain about but secretly wish he’d never get rid of.

Arthur fell into the fantasy for a little while, sipping his beer until it was empty and he held just the bottle in his hand, his other preoccupied with staying firm on Riley’s hip. At some point in the night, he leaned his forehead to her shoulder, closed his eyes, and let himself drift in that sweet little dream that would remain exactly that; just a dream. Men like him didn’t get happy endings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy, not sure about this chapter as its more plot and exposition than anything else. I'm finding it hard to slot plot in there, y'know? Keep in fresh and moving? Am I doing okay? 
> 
> How do y'all feel about time skips?


	23. I will wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- I will wait by Mumford and Sons - 
> 
> "Well I came home  
> Like a stone  
> And I fell heavy into your arms  
> These days of dust  
> Which we've known  
> Will blow away with this new sun"

“ _Arthur_.”

“Mmm…”

“Come on, Handsome, need ya to stand up,” Riley whispered softly, voice clearly not reaching him. She sighed, threading her fingers through his hair, and shifted so she could attempt to stand up. As she moved, Arthur went with her, giving an almost toddler-like pout when his arms slid from her waist and into his own lap. It was almost cute if it weren’t for the fact she knew exactly how exhausted he was. His eyes were red-rimmed and appeared almost sunken when she looked into them. It was like he was looking without actually seeing. His hands were rough, his clothes dirty and worn, and she’d noticed when he’d come into camp earlier that evening the way he’d stumbled a little as if his back were giving him trouble.

“Come on, big guy, let’s get you t’bed, kay?” He nodded numbly, groaning as he stood up from the crate to take her by the hand and follow her to the house.

As much as Riley liked it, the place had an off feeling about it. Too many walls, not enough windows. Hardly any life in it, and dust coating everything she touched. There was nothing homely about it when she’d first set foot inside, but luckily the girls had made it a little more inviting. Getting the bloodstains off the floor had been a start, at least.

Riley hiked up the stairs with Arthur in tow behind her. She lead him around the stairs towards a door she knew had been designated as Arthur’s bedroom. Lucky him; she’d been given a cosy corner in the downstairs living room behind the piano. At least he got privacy. Once inside she closed the door gently, and when she turned around he was already sitting heavily on the bed. Riley smiled, just a little, and dropped to her knees to help the unfortunate man take off his boots.

“You don’t have’ta do that.” He muttered, attempting to take over as she slid one boot off and set it by his shaving stand. He didn’t seem to object much more when she bat his hands away and removed the other.

Arthur could at least manage to take off his coat, though. Riley helped with his button-down shirt and suspenders, folding them neatly on the chair in the corner of the room. When she next turned around Arthur was on his back, easing onto the well-used mattress with eyes so close to closing it was a wonder he was still awake.

“I’ll be downstairs if you need me, okay?” Riley spoke softly, once again finding her fingers trailing through his hair. She watched as he slid into a more comfortable position, humming softly to himself.

“What room you got?” He asked, voice thick and tired.

“Don’t got one. I set up behind that broken piano in the main room, though.” Riley answered, casting him a small smirk when his eyes opened to frown at her. For a second he watched her, and then he was sitting up and Riley began to panic.

“Hey hey, woah now, you gotta sleep!” She protested, pushing on his shoulder to try and get him to lie down.

“Nah, ain’t right. You take this room, I’ll go downstairs.” He said, gruffly, managing to swing a leg off the bed and onto the floor. It was obvious he wasn’t going nowhere, judging by how he had to place a palm to his head as if the room were spinning. Riley laughed, shook her head, and sat on the edge of the bed beside him.

“How about a compromise, then? You stay here with me. In this room. Together.”

A light flush crept its way up Arthur’s neck and to the tips of his ears. She loved the way he did that, how simple gestures of kindness and affection were so unheard of to him that something so easy as sharing a room would cause him to be like this. He seemed to ponder for a moment before nodding, and slowly began to sink back into the bed with a groan. This time Riley followed, sliding in beside him once she’d kicked off her own boots. Arthur wound his arm around her middle, pulled her closer, and tucked her neatly under his chin. She gave a soft sigh as she pressed a hand to his chest, thumb rubbing against the red fabric of his union suit. She could feel the raised muscles from his time on the road and thought he was a little thinner than the last time they’d slept like this. She made a mental note to get him some extra portions of breakfast tomorrow.

Eventually, Arthur’s breathing evened out, and Riley found herself focusing on it and matching it with her own breathing. It wasn’t long before sleep overcame her too, and she slipped into a comfortable abyss in the arms of security.

When dawn broke the next day, the smell of wood-smoke and cigarettes drifted through the windows along with whatever it was Pearson was cooking for breakfast. Riley’s nose twitched when she smelled the coffee, thick and bitter, filtering through alongside it. She stretched lazily in the bed, something that was made more difficult by the huge body slotted in behind her. She smiled into her own arm, realised she’d slept in her clothes, and sat up to begin removing things. First went her shirt, wrinkled and dirty, onto the floor. Next, she threw off her jeans and sank back into the warmth of Arthur’s arms and the blanket around their bodies. Wearing just her underwear, Riley felt a little more comfortable. It wasn’t as nice as the hotel they’d shared some days ago, but it was a lot better than a bedroll on the ground. At least there was that.

When she finally laid back down Arthur was awake, watching her with adoration in his eyes. She wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t tightened his embrace on her, pulling her closer to his chest, enough to kiss just behind her ear.

“Mornin’.” He rumbled. Riley grinned, searching along his arm until she found his hand where she immediately linked their fingers together.

“Feelin’ better?” She asked, softly, turning onto her back to get a better look at her man.

“Yeah. Think I needed some good rest.” He admitted, propping himself up with his palm under his jaw. Riley had to say he did look better now, more rested at least. He still looked a little thin, but that was something she could fix.

“Jameson…?” Arthur began, cutting himself off with a small sigh.

“Morgan…?” Riley mocked him, rolling her eyes a little.

“Do you… Do you like it here. With us. The gang.” His question implied a lot, and she could see the trails of hidden questions underneath his words. Carefully Riley licked her lips and stared up at the ceiling as she considered her answer.

“I don’t dislike it.” She settled on her answer, raising their enclosed hands above her face so she could toy with the way they entwined. “I suppose… It’s better than what I was doin’ before. Loneliness can kill a stronger man than me.”

Arthur was quiet for a moment, considering her answer before he lay on his back with a long sigh.

“I’m sorry.” He said, quietly. Riley turned to look at him, brows creased with a question on her lips. He answered for her. “Things are hectic right now, darlin’… I ain’t been payin’ enough attention to you like I should.”

Now it was Riley’s turn to sit up and stare down at him. She considered him for a moment, watching the way he avoided her gaze like he’d admitted a terrible secret. Her fingers trailed along his jaw, urging him to look at her, and when he finally did she left a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Honey, whoever hurt you enough in your past to make you think you ain’t takin’ care of me right now is goin’ to hell.” She said, simply. “I’m worried about _you_ , silly man. Dutch’s got you runnin’ all over the place doin’ things for him, and us, the gang… I worry you’re gonna work yourself to death before I even get a chance to-“

Biting her tongue, Riley coughed discreetly and laid back down on the bed, shoving an arm behind herself for a bit of elevation.

“Before you get the chance to what…?” Arthur followed her, leaning on his side. He had a funny glint in his eye, and Riley couldn’t stop herself from answering honestly when he looked at her like that.

“Before… I get the chance to spend the rest of my days with you.” She said, simply, deciding to go for the confident approach rather than the mortified, love-sick puppy that was crawling inside her chest. It was worth it, though, to see the way Arthur lit up like the fourth of July.

“You wanna spend your days w’me?” He asked, almost shocked at her admission. Riley nodded, and the way his face lit up in a smile was so infectious she couldn’t help but mirror it. He leaned down to kiss her, all rough beard and tongue. She didn’t mind in the slightest. Arthur withdrew after a few moments, visibly pleased with how Riley blinked up at him like he hung the moon. Satisfied, she watched as he pushed some of her hair behind her ear, stroking his thumb across her cheek.

“Tell me somethin’,” He asked, slowly rolling onto his back. Riley followed, rolling onto her stomach and sweeping her hair over her shoulders “What do you want in life? You want a family? A ranch? Kids?”

The question caught Riley off guard, but the only surprise on her face was the slight rise of her eyebrows. She hummed, gathered her hands together under her chin, and pondered on his question.

“Well… Once upon a time, I guess… Now it don’t seem like a dream I could have. When I was a girl my Pa used to ask me what I wanted to do when I was grown. I never really had a solid answer. First time he asked I wanted to be a cat.” Riley snorted, laughing at the fond memory and smiling as she saw Arthur tuck an arm under his head, paying rapt attention with his own little smile.

“When I was about ten I wanted to work with the horses, but then I got thrown by one and it shook me, so I decided not to. Then my Ma tried to teach me to make dresses like she did, I was just all clumsy with my fingers so didn’t get it right. I think I was thirteen when I knew I just wanted family. It’s all I knew, all I cared for. I wanted to make my own family with my husband, have a couple kids, live on the family ranch. Simple, quiet life… Fat chance of that happenin’ any time soon, huh?” Riley gave a rueful smile, but she’d made peace with her teenage dream burning up alongside her family home.

“Darlin’, you can have everythin’ you could ever want.” Arthur said, softly. He cupped her cheek in his free hand, and Riley shifted closer to lean into it and trace words into his stomach.

“Nah… Ain’t never found a man worth marryin’…”

_Till now_.

Riley bit her lower lip and cast her eyes up to Arthur’s, pale greens meeting with cornflower blue’s. The words went unsaid, she knew he understood.

“I’d have married you in a heartbeat if I’d met you when I was a girl.” She said, smiling. This got a lovely reaction from Arthur, all toothy grins and laughter. Riley adored making him laugh, it was the best possible feeling.

“Can’t say I wouldn’t’ve been opposed to the idea.” Arthur admitted, curling a stray strand of her dark hair around his index finger. “I bet you looked just as sweet as you do now, maybe more so…”

“Damn right I did. I used to wear real pretty dresses my ma would craft for her dress makin’. She’d make me wear ‘em but then I’d just pull on my boots an’ go muck out the cows..” Painting the picture, Riley made sure to include little details like the colour of the lace on the bodice of the dress, the tone of pink her mother adored for her to wear, and of course the horrid stains of cow shit that she’d inevitably come back with.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress… sides from that one time with the gamblin’ job. Why’d you stop?” Arthur asked, curious. Riley gave a small sigh, and a slight shrug of her shoulder.

“It’s real dangerous bein’ a woman out on the open road, all alone. I learned the hard way not to wear dresses, or things that’d stop me makin’ a quick escape. Also, I’m real good at pretendin’ to be a boy so most people leave me be. It’s a talent.” She smirked, waggled her brows, and Arthur rolled his eyes in response.

“So… D’ya still want a husband and kids an’ all that?” He asked, dropping his gaze to the strand of hair he was so focused on, more so than she’d seen him focus on anything else. It suddenly hit her that he was asking her a hidden question again.

_Do you want me to marry you? Do you want me to give you kids?_

She thought on the question for a moment, focusing on her odd tracings on Arthur’s chest. At some point in her life, in the eleven years, it had been since the tragedy, Riley had let go of the childish dream of family. She’d focused on survival, on strategy and living. Never had she even considered that she could have what she once lost.

“I… I dunno.” Riley answered, honestly. “I don’t know what I want. I suppose I never really stopped wantin’ it but… Is the life we lead gonna allow for that? What with bein’ on the run an’ all I just… don’t see that we have the time or the money… An’ I know you’re fully loyal to the gang, to Dutch, I couldn’t ask you to run away with me. It wouldn’t be right. No… No matter how much I _wish_ we could.”

Her admission sent a little stab of pain through her chest. Her jaw clenched, and she was suddenly very interested in the fabric of the pillow. She picked at the corner absently, frowning to herself as Arthur’s hand slipped from her hair to gently cup her cheek, turning her attention back to him. She resisted for a moment, eyes pinned on her own hand gripping the corner of the pillow between her thumb and first finger. Eventually, she met his gaze, and tension dripped from her shoulders as she found the expression there so willing and sure.

“Sweetheart… If you asked me today to run away with you, I would.”

Riley searched his eyes for any sign of a lie, any sign of regret. She looked for a flicker of doubt or guilt, anything to even remotely hint that he was having second thoughts about his words. What she found was clear intent settled in the pools of his eyes. Clear blue oceans that begged for trust, and pledged _loyalty_ to her very own soul. Her heart clamped in on itself, wrestled between vines of honeysuckle and squeezing the breath from her lungs. Slowly she leaned in, pressed a feather-light kiss to his lips, and came to rest her forehead gently against his.

“Tell me about Isaac…?” She asked, instead of answering. She felt him shift a little, and a small smile appeared under the tips of her fingers where she was tracing the lines of his mouth.

She couldn’t take Arthur away from his family. She couldn’t steal him away from what was most important to him. As much as the idea made her heart swell, she couldn’t, in good conscience, take him away from everything he has ever known. And for what? A silly dream of marriage, ranches, and children. Maybe she was past it now, but a part of her did ache for the children they could have had together. A little version of Arthur to cherish and raise to be just as good a man as his father.

Settling against his chest, tucked under his chin and against his side, Riley traced those shapes on his stomach again as he told her stories about his son. There weren’t many, and she knew that fact lingered in his mind like the plague, but the stories he did have were so detailed it was like he was reliving them in pictures in his mind. If she concentrated, real hard, she could imagine Arthur and his son fishing together. Maybe deep down she considered his offer. Maybe, on a different day, she would have accepted and gone straight to the train station with him that very morning. But she couldn’t ask him to do that, and she wouldn’t. She couldn’t think of anything more selfish than to drag a man like him away from his family.

“What’re you doin’ today?” Riley asked as she slowly pulled on one of Arthur’s shirts, buttoning it up at the front. It was large on her, very baggy, but at least it would give her some cover until she could get one of her own. Or, maybe, she’d steal this one for good and breathe in Arthur’s scent of coffee, peppermint candy, and smoke.

“Uh… I think Herr Strauss said somethin’ about a debt needin’ collectin’.” Arthur said, pulling on his boots. He sat on the bed, mostly dressed aside from his hat. He’d shaved that morning when they’d eventually gotten up. Riley had brought them both breakfast, grits and gravy, up to the room. She’d made sure Arthur got extra and watched him like a hawk as he ate it all.

“Oh yeah… Want me t’come with?” Riley asked, bending to find her boots. She tugged them on and shoved the legs of her jeans inside, protecting them from the swamp dirt she knew she’d encounter through the day. “I got nothin’ to do, I’m itchin’ to get outta camp at least. Lemme come with you.”

Turning back to face Arthur she could see clear conflict on his features. His jaw was set, and he seemed reluctant to speak. With a sigh, Riley stepped closer to him and stood between his knees, both her hands framing his cheeks.

“What’s up, big guy…?” She asked, softly, her thumbs rubbing gently across his cheekbones. Arthur gave a weary sigh, but ultimately leaned into her touch with his hands settling on the backs of her knees.

“I ain’t the kinda man you think I am when I collect debts.” He admitted, gazing up at her with something akin to worry in his eyes. “I hurt people. I… I don’t want you t’see me like that.”

“Honey, I knew what I was getting’ myself mixed up in the day I kissed you on that train. If you can accept me for all my sins, I can accept you. Now let me come with before I _burn_ this camp to the ground and dance naked in the ashes.” Riley spoke firmly, determination in her voice as she shifted her fingers up and into Arthur’s hair. He’d combed it back, but she had no ill-feelings about messing it up again. The laugh he gave made her chest ache, and she felt rather than saw him tug her down into his lap with a playful growl.

“Now that _would_ be a sight.” He laughed, helping her get situated in his lap. Riley took the opportunity to wind her arms around Arthur’s shoulders, giving her something to anchor onto as she pressed closer, lips hovering over his.

“I bet you would, _cowboy_ …” She whispered, and slowly let herself rock against the man beneath her. She felt a shudder roll through his shoulders and swallowed the sweet sigh that fell from between his lips. She kept her pace slow, yet firm, rocking back and forth in his lap until she could feel a distinctive swell against the confines of his jeans. She smiled, peppered his lips and cheeks with gentle kisses, and deftly slipped out of his grip.

Standing straight, Riley tucked in her shirt into her jeans, found her had placed it on her head. When she turned back around she was met with the delicious sight of Arthur, lips kiss bitten and cheeks red. He sat on the edge of the bed, one hand balled into a fist in the sheets and the other gripping the outline of his cock through his jeans. Riley licked her lips and gave him a teasing smirk.

“Let me come with you today, then maybe later I’ll carry on what we just started.” She gave him a playful wink and sauntered out of the room, knowing full well he was going to have to sit for a spell to calm himself down. She heard him curse as she left the room, quietly shutting the door behind herself as she made her way downstairs to go ready her horse. She knew she’d won him over, and with her newfound power she wondered what else she could convince him to do. The possibilities were endless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy, another talky chapter I guess. I wanted to express how their futures could have been so good, but we all know this is a sad story. 
> 
> Fix it fic who? 
> 
> I wanted to show how Riley appreciates Arthur's past, and maybe even feels the horrible sense of guilt and grief Arthur feels at the loss of his son. So she try's to make him remember the good memories of the kid, instead of the sad. In my mind she respected Eliza, the mother. In this story, Riley would have absolutely without hesitation loved the both of them. I think she does, even though she's never met them. She loves those most important to him. 
> 
> Well I've made myself sad so here you go enjoy lol


	24. Paralyzed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Paralyzed by NF - 
> 
> "When did I become so cold?  
> When did I become ashamed?   
> Where's the person that I know?  
> They must have left  
> They must have left  
> With all my faith"

_I always heard Saint Denis was one of the 7 wonders of the world. If this is so, I don’t care much to see the other 6. It’s a depressing place that shows you the only thing worse than people is a whole lot of people._

_I have not ever met a lizard in a suit before, only now I have and his name is Angelo Bronte. He is either our salvation or our damnation. This city’s strongman, arrived from Italy a few years ago and now knows and controls everything and everyone. He had not harmed Jack, other than feeding him strange food, and Dutch seems to think that maybe we can get something from this oily dictator. Personally, I don’t trust him more than I’d trust a hungry animal not to try and eat me, but for now, we are somewhat safe and hidden. Whole place gives me the creeps._

_Convinced Riley to share a room with me. Didn’t feel right leaving her downstairs by herself on a cold hard floor, while I sleep in comfort on a real bed. Well, if a real bed had bed bugs and thread bear blankets, that is. She don’t seem to mind, at least. Said she wanted to spend the rest of her days with me, and when she said that I thought my heart was going to explode._

The summer breeze whipped Riley’s hair around her shoulders which hung loose instead of it’s usual braid. The dark locks curled around her shoulders as she rode her horse beside him, eyes intent on the road, reigns gathered in one sure hand. Arthur couldn’t help but look at her, she was incredible. She sat straight on her mount, rocking with the gait of her mare as if it were as natural as breathing. She had his shirt on, that god-forsaken pale blue shirt hanging off her. He liked it, the way it looked. She looked claimed, she looked like she belonged to him. Thoughts like that were dangerous but gave him a secret thrill he’d never admit to. That morning he’d done his best to convince her to stay at camp whilst he went out on a debt collection, but of course she wouldn’t hear it. She was too damn stubborn, and she got under his skin like a bad rash and he _loved_ it.

It had taken Arthur ten full minutes to calm down the erection she’d given him that morning. Her way of convincing him, he guessed, and by the time he’d got downstairs, she was already perched on her horse with the reigns to Gypsy in her grasp. He’d smiled ruefully, knowing he was beaten, and spent a good minute checking his map before taking them off on their task.

In the back of his mind, he was highly aware of what they were riding into. Riley hadn’t been with him when he collected debts before, he’d made sure of that. There was a very good reason, of course. He hated the man he had to become when collecting. The fear he instilled in people, the threats, the violence. It wasn’t what he wanted to be this big scary man making people stink of fear whenever he came near them, but it was the most effective way to get what he came for without much fuss. He didn’t want to see Riley’s face when she realized what he could do, who he could become, who he _was_. Maybe she’d hate him. Maybe she’d finally see sense and leave him, leave the gang, walk away from everything he’d given her.

The thoughts whirled around in his head as they neared the swampy home of Algie Davison. The shack was run down and rotten at the foundations, swamp water having taken its toll over the years. The mid-day heat beat down on his shoulders and for once Arthur was glad he’d left his jacket at camp. Instead, he wore a white cotton shirt that fit tightly where his suspenders clung to his shoulders. Sweat soaked through the back already, and whenever he looked over at Riley he could see she was suffering from the heat similarly. The house seemed empty as Arthur hitched his horse to a nearby tree, tying her loosely in case he needed to make a quick getaway. He stalked up to the front of the house, listening intently to any sounds that might alert him to people inside. It was silent. Behind him, Riley had hitched Trigger up beside Gypsy and was following him close behind. She wore a serious expression on her face as she stood beside him, eyes pinned on the house. He gave her a little nod in the direction of the river, where by the water’s edge he could see the form of a man slumped against the wreck of an old fishing boat. Riley rolled her eyes when she spotted him, her hand coming away from her pistol. Arthur wasn’t so quick to relax.

Together they made their way to the man who was obviously nursing a bottle, empty whiskey and beer bottles strewn around him. He lay in the mud, like a pig, and Arthur heard Riley stifle a laugh behind her hand.

“HEY! You better have a damn good reason for being on my property, fellers!” The man yelled at them, and Arthur sighed inwardly. He squared his shoulders and walked with intent towards the man, standing over him with his hands on his hips.

“You remember that loan you took, Mr. Davison? Well, time’s long since up. I’m here to collect.” He watched as the man stumbled to his feet, clearly unsteady as he used the turned boat for support. Riley busied herself with something else behind him, and in the back of his mind, he reminded himself to keep calm with this man. There’s no way he could let Jameson see him lose his temper, she’d hate him. He could do a calm debt collection, it just... might not be as effective as his usual method.

“Ah... I shoulda known. You goddamn bludgeon men are all the same.” The man began walking back to the house, and Arthur turned to follow him, weary of the holster on the man’s hip. “Sure, sure. I got your money. Every stinkin’ cent. It’s in the house. Hell, I’ll even offer you a drink. We can toast to never layin’ eyes on each other again.” Arthur scoffed quietly and heaved a sigh as he fell in line behind the man.

“I got a powerful thirst on me right now, how about you? Or you got to be stinkin’ drunk already to do this kind of work?” Davison said, and Arthur snuck a glance at Riley to raise his brows. Maybe this job would be a lot easier than he’d originally thought. Less violence, at least. And even if this man did try and fight, he was so damn drunk already that a stiff breeze would surely topple him.

“Oh, I like doin’ it sober,” Arthur replied, shaking his head subtly.

“If you’ll take my money, surely you’ll take a drink off’a me as well. That would be the mannerly thing to do.”

“Let’s handle us the money first, worry about manners later, okay?”

“I _could_ be fishin’!” Davison whined, meandering towards his home.

“You were catchin’ _flies_ , you weren’t catchin’ _fish_. Now come on, let’s get us that debt.” Arthur followed the man up the steps to his home, and he felt the corners of his lips twitch upwards when he heard Riley cover a laugh behind the facade of a cough.

“You back so soon, Pa?” A voice came from within the house, and instantly Arthur felt the cold chill roll down his spine. He hated it when kids were involved. It made everything so much more... complicated. Arthur walked into the house behind Davison, stepping over the dilapidated floorboards and avoiding the general mess on the ground. The house was obviously unkempt, and a cursory glance backwards proved Riley felt the same way. She walked in his shadow, stepping over piles of clothing and shattered glass the same way he had.

“Someone’s here, boy!” The debtor called, making his way into what Arthur could now see was their kitchen. At the table, a boy sat with an empty plate in front of him. He wore a grubby white shirt, just like his father, and red trousers held up with suspenders. He had a face on him that screamed _young_ and _scared_.

“Pa? Wait, what’s going on?” He asked, standing up from the table to cower away from Arthur like he was going to hit him. At a guess, the boy could be no older than 14-years-old.

“Don’t just stand there, go fix us a drink.” The father bent under the kitchen counter and began to rummage around, and Arthur had a sinking feeling that this poor kid knew how to fix the perfect drink from practice. He felt tension building in his shoulders and rolled them out a little to try and appear non-threatening to the boy. The kid visibly deflated at his father’s request.

“ _Another_ one, Pa...?”

“Don’t give me no talk, boy, just do it! I’ll look down here for our savings.” The way he spoke and the way the boy’s eyes shifted between Arthur, Riley and his father made Arthur feel incredibly uncomfortable.

“Savings? Under the sink?” He asked, a small frown forming between his brows.

“Best place for them. Now where’s them drinks, boy?” He was taking too long under the sink, Arthur didn’t dare take his eyes off him.

“Drinks’ ready. It’s right there, mister.” The boy was scared, his hands were shaking as he gestured to the glass on the table. Arthur had a feeling that something was about to happen. He felt a gentle hand on his back, a silent urge for him to go collect his drink. Riley was behind him, he knew she had her hand on her gun without looking back. A small smirk graced his lips and his shoulders settled a little as he reached for the glass. He took a sip, wincing at the strength of the liquid, and when he turned around he was met with a sight he could have predicted at ten paces away.

Davison was on his knees, a knife in hand, but he wasn’t looking at Arthur. His eyes were on Riley and the barrel of the gun she had pressed to his temple. It was almost like he hadn’t seen her, and was surprised that she was there. Whatever the case, it made for a great picture as he dropped the knife and held up his hands. There was a yelp behind him, and Davison’s kid scarpered from the room. He wasn’t the worry here, he was just a scared kid. Arthur paid him no mind and thought that maybe this would go a little easier if he wasn’t there to witness what he was about to do.

“ _Mighty_ stupid thing to do, partner,” Arthur said as he kicked the knife across the room. Riley lowered her gun but didn’t holster it. Her eyes were pinned on the man, anger in the way her features set like stone.

“Now, you gonna tell me where the money is, or do I gotta beat it outta ya?” He asked, bending down just a little to impose himself on the man. It didn’t seem to have the desired effect, however, for the man was quick to throw a punch at Arthur and attempted to tackle him. Grunting in pain as a fist connected to his jaw, Arthur felt himself fall backwards with the force of the man throwing his weight into his stomach. He hit the wall, crouched against it, and managed to push Davison away by the shoulders enough to get his boot up and thrust it square against his chest. Davison flew back to the ground, arms sprawled, and Arthur spat blood on the floor between them before sending his fist into the man’s face. He fell back to the ground like a sack of potatoes, and Arthur stood up to flex his hand and soothe the ache that came with a good punch.

“Shit.” The voice came from the other side of the room. Riley had a strange look in her eye, one Arthur wasn’t familiar with. Instantly he drooped his head, averting his eyes to the ground as he tensed his shoulders again, ready for the backlash. “Took him out with one hit. Impressive.”

That took him by surprise. Arthur looked up at Riley to see her grinning from ear to ear, her pistol back in the holster at her hip. She winked at him, and walked from the room, leaving him to search the man’s body before he could wake up for round two. Something strange settled into place in Arthur’s chest. He couldn’t quite identify it, the way it made his bones feel lighter and his blood sing.

He found nothing of value from Davison’s person and stalked off to try and find Riley. She was in a new room, talking softly to the boy who’d run away earlier. He could hear the soothing way she spoke, squatting beside the bed he was so clearly hiding under.

“Come on, darlin’, we just need t’collect what’s ours and then we’ll be on our way. Sound good?” She asked, and there was a muffled reply about a footlocker. Riley stood, fiddled around in the room, and came back into the hallway holding a wad of cash in her hand. It was more than they’d come for, Arthur thought as he counted the money. He pulled the excess out and set it on the fireplace beside the boy’s bed.

“Don’t see no reason why we should take more than what’s owed.” He said, quietly, and another strange look came across Riley’s face. It was like she became softer, her edges rounded, and a look of pure adoration settled behind her eyes that had Arthur looking away with a flush high on his cheeks. He felt... complicated emotions. He couldn’t put words to what he was feeling, not easily.

It was then that he realized that strange feeling in his chest was relief. She didn’t see him as a monster like he’d thought. She didn’t run the second he’d gotten violent with a man, or the moment she’d heard him spit threats.

“Let’s go.” He said after a moment. Arthur pocketed the money and made his way outside, glad of the fresh air after the stifling scents from the house. He sucked in a deep breath and readjusted his hat.

“What you did back there,” He heard Riley say as she caught up to him, “That was nice. You’re a good man, Arthur.”

And there were those words again, spoken so softly and reverently that he’d started to believe them the last time he’d heard them. But now? Now he’d punched a man hard enough to knock him unconscious. Now, he had blood on his hand that was not his own, once again.

“If I were a good man I’d have a respectable job, a wife an’ kids, maybe a farm or somethin’. I wouldn’ be runnin’ around collectin’ debts an’ beatin’ up old drunk men.” Arthur said, bitterly. He stalked towards his horse, who lifted her head to give him a quick sound of greeting. He pet her nose gently and un-tethered her from the tree.

“I don’t believe that for one minute,” Riley said, simply. She mimicked him, untied her horse, and followed as soon as he was mounted to find his way back to the path. “You coulda took all that money but you left some behind. I don’t know many men that woulda done that. You just do what’s necessary... Y’ain’t a bad man, Arthur. You’re one of the best.”

Something inside him clenched, and a deep-seated hatred of himself came rising to the surface. He didn’t answer her as she continued to try and prove with words what a good man he was. It was grating, tiresome, and in the back of his mind, he heard a small voice telling him to prove to her what a bad man he was. She needed to see it, to believe it. Before long he’d pulled Gypsy off the road, guiding her into a clearing. Riley didn’t seem to notice, that or she didn’t care. She followed close behind, still speaking about the ways in which he was a good man. After a few more minutes of gentle riding into the thicker woods, he stopped, pulling his horse to a halt beside a fast running river. He dismounted and hitched her to another tree, and lit himself a cigarette as he watched and waited for Riley to do the same.

“You’re wrong, y’know.” He said, gruffly. She’d finally stopped talking, and Arthur took the opportunity to lean against a large sycamore tree with his boot pressed int into the trunk. “I ain’t a good man.”

He was drowning in his thoughts, thinking of way’s he could prove what he knew to be true to her. Maybe take her on a store robbery, show her how it can go wrong, show her how he kills when he’s backed into a corner. Memory’s raced through his mind. _Mrs Downes and her son leaving their ranch after he’d taken all their money. Aglie Davison, unconscious and bleeding on the floor of his own home. That German man who had no money, so Arthur personally searched through his entire house until he found the one thing of worth the man had. Times he’d stolen and laughed in the faces of his victims, times he’d killed even though there was probably a better way out, times he’d-_

“Are you jus’ actin’ stupid or are you really _that_ dense?” Riley asked. Arthur looked up at her, blowing a puff of smoke out of his nose. She looked pissed, arms folded across her chest, hip to the side, eyes smouldering.

“S’cuse me?” He asked, brows raised. He flicked the cigarette off to the side and stood to his full height.

“You heard me, don’t play dumb.” She retorted, taking another step closer. It was a dangerous dance, one he hadn’t practised and one he didn’t know the moves to.

“Look, if you ain’t gonna accept that I-”

“ _For the love of God_ , if I hear you say the words bad man one more time I’ll personally stick a knife in you.” Riley gritted out, jaw clenched. She walked closer, and though she was half a head shorter than he was she somehow managed to make herself appear so much bigger. Her hand clutched his jaw, fingers pushing into his skin and biting with her nails. “What’s it gonna take for you to _realize_ , huh?”

Arthur didn’t know what she meant, but his hands stayed by his sides even as he clenched them into fists. He stared her down, drank in her anger, his own jaw set and his eyes hard. He felt her free hand shove at his chest and he was being forced back against the tree. None too gently she still had her grip around his jaw, a silent reminder that he wasn’t to talk.

“I see how it is.” She spoke, voice low, like venom laced her words. “I get it. You wanna _show_ me how bad a man you are.”

_Shit._

She could read him like a god damn book, and Arthur didn’t know if he loved it or hated it. Her grip tightened, and he flinched uncomfortably, still holding her gaze. His back pressed hard against the tree as she pressed the length of her body against his. He felt a slight grunt fall from his lips, and he was rewarded with a gentle tap of her first finger against his cheek.

“So this is what’s gonna happen. _Convince me_. The second I let go of you... You’re gonna show me _just how bad a man you really are_.” Her voice lay heavy with implication, riling him up as he processed the words. Tension was thick in the air, choking him, filling his mouth, sticking his tongue to the roof. It took her a moment to let go of his jaw, but when she did he was shoving her down to her knees by the shoulders and scrambling at his belt with his free hand. Riley helped, of course. She had him out of his jeans and in her hands faster than he could blink, stroking the length of his cock with a rough hand. Arthur couldn’t help the low growl that escaped his throat, pushed out along with his breath as she took the head of his cock into her mouth and _sucked_.

One of his hands stayed firm on her shoulder, keeping her in position as his free hand tangled in her hair. Distantly he was aware of his own strength and kept it at bay enough to make this pleasurable. He needed this, he told himself. He needed to show her what he could do, what he could be, how everyone saw him but-

_I don’t want to hurt you._

She licked the length of his cock in one fell swoop, dipping the tip of her tongue into the slit to lap up the clear liquid that beaded there. One hand sat firm on his hip, her fingers bruising as she gripped him tightly. Her other hand curled around the length of him, fingers barely meeting around his girth. He looked down with wild eyes in time to see his cock disappear between her lips, slick with his own come and her saliva already. The visual alone caused him to throw his head back against the tree and lose a long groan from his lips. Somewhere along the line, his hat had fallen to the ground, and his suspenders were dragged down to his waist. He felt desperate hands pulling his shirt loose from his jeans, and watched as Riley adjusted herself on her knees to take him deeper than before. Her throat constricted around his cock, _pulsing_ with a swallow that felt so perfect he nearly blew his load. It was when she groaned around him he knew he wasn’t getting his point across.

Arthur tugged her off by the grip in her hair and dropped down to his own knees to sit on his heels. He pulled Riley up to her feet and began undoing her belt buckle, aided by eager hands that shoved her jeans down to her ankles and over her boots. Now bare, Arthur let his fingers rake up her thighs, leaving red welts in their wake until he had two hands full of her ass.

In one swift motion, he pulled her into his lap and guided his cock to her entrance. Another moment and he tugged her down, slowing down after a few inches to give her a moment to adjust. He could so easily force her down again, make her take him, make her feel it in the morning, take what he wanted but-

_I don’t want to hurt you..._

Her hips rocked of their own accord and Arthur stopped them with his large hands firmly in place. She looked down at him, taller in his position, and Arthur noticed how wide her pupils were. She sank down inch by inch, agonizing slowly, one of her hands cupped to his cheek whilst the other hung around his neck for support. He held her close, and once she was seated with her thighs against his hips, he closed his eyes. Catching a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, Arthur focused on the gentle sensation of fingers raking through his hair. He felt lights blow behind his eyelids, and a shuddering sigh escape from between his lips. Eventually, after what felt like hours but was really only seconds, he lifted his head to look up at Riley.

Here it was, the moment he was supposed to show all his strength and threats. He was supposed to take what he wanted, give nothing back, but his will was so weak and he found he didn’t have a single urge to do so in his body. He held the reigns of control in his hands, limp and unmoving until she took them from him in an iron fist and regained control. It felt good to give it up, it felt _good_ to release the weight of such a burden to someone he trusted more than himself.

“Darlin’ I-” She cut him off with a quick _jerk_ of her hips, and his words fell into a hapless groan. Her fingers trailed across his jaw and cheekbones, tracing long-forgotten scars. She simply sat with him fully sheathed inside of her, not moving after that initial jerk, but instead taking her time in tracing his features. Slowly it was becoming uncomfortable, and he desperately wanted to move. She’d made her thoughts clear, though. He was to wait.

“ _Good_.” She whispered, after a moment, her lips tantalizing close to his own. He tilted his head, lips parting, desperate for a taste of her. He chased her warmth as she pulled away, drunkenly blinking himself back to reality. She was smiling, her fingers curling and uncurling in his hair as she slowly began to rock back and forth on his cock. It wasn't what he wanted, but it was something. It was better than nothing. Her hips rocked in tandem to his heartbeat, steadily increasing in tempo. He breathed roughly and pressed his forehead against her collarbone just to get that little bit closer to her.

Sex thick air caused sweat to roll down his back, soaking his already dirty shirt and similarly her own. He gently placed a kiss to her neck, waiting to see if it was allowed, and when she simply arched her neck for him he knew what he was meant to do.

Little nips, licks and bites trailed her neck and shoulder. He’d soothe the bites with kisses and licks until she was moaning, little high sounds that made his cock twitch. Her rocking was delicious, and he was slowly losing himself to the sensation. Eventually, her hands came up to his cheeks again and pulled him up to look at her. She looked every bit as _wrecked_ as he felt. Cheeks painted pink, lips bitten red, and eyes practically glowing like emeralds around the ring of black lust. He leaned forward again, begging without words, eager to please. He wanted to kiss her so badly, so much so that he nearly whined when she pulled back from his advance yet again.

“ _Bad_ men don’t get _kisses_.” She chided. Returning to working her hips against his length, Arthur held on to her hips to help her move. This time it was different, she was bouncing a little, creating a sort of thrusting motion that he gladly accommodated. But the allure of her lips was too inviting, and after another failed attempt to kiss her he felt frustration growing from the base of his spine up into his lungs. And there, perched in his lap, beautifully smiling and sweating and panting, Riley was winning the battle she’d begun.

“Do you trust me?” She asked him, lips pressed against his ear. She kissed down the length of his neck, biting a mark into his shoulder when he didn't reply straight away. He grunted and nodded, uncertain as to whether or not he was permitted to speak. She hummed, pleased with his answer, and soothed over the bite with her tongue. Arthur shivered, his hands flexing against her hips. They hadn’t moved an inch since she’d first sunk down onto his length.

“Good... Now, do you trust me when I say I know the difference between a bad man and a good one...?” Her voice was like cinnamon and citrus, sweetly working its way into his bloodstream, getting him drunk off her words. He nodded quickly, submitting himself to her completely. Of course he trusted her. Of course he did.

“ _Good boy_.” She breathed, finally pulling back to let her lips trail across his cheekbones. His tongue darted out to lick his dry lips, and the ache for her mouth on his only intensified as she pressed feather-light kisses to his jaw. He could feel the brush of her eyelashes against his skin, the way her fingers travelled from his shoulders to his neck, up and around, tangling in his hair, scratching blunt nails against his scalp. He groaned, unashamed and loud, and was rewarded with what he most desperately wanted.

Her lips tasted like cherry wine, he thought, as he licked against them, begging for entry. When they parted he tasted coffee and cigarettes, and while he thoroughly explored her mouth like it was the first time all over again, he felt her move against him. She was locking her legs around his waist and pressing herself ever closer. Her little whines and moans were swallowed up eagerly, and he bit gently at her lower lip, a silent thank you.

“ _Arthur_...” She groaned, and he loved the way she said it, especially like this. Breathy, against his lips, for his ears only. “ _Fuck me_.”

****Wish granted****.

Arthur was quick to pull his hands under her thighs, lifting her to his chest before quickly dropping them both down to the forest floor. Thankfully there was a nice layer of grass and moss below them, enough to cushion the blow as he moved without separating them. He kissed her like a dying man in need of water, desperately licking into her mouth, chasing her tongue, and battling against the oncoming storm. Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, only easing when he finally began to thrust. The sounds she made were worth the wait. He kept one hand firmly on her hip, holding her in place as he began to piston his hips with great need. His other helped prop him up on his elbow, giving him a millimetre of distance between their body’s. His hips worked frantically, his mouth claiming whatever she gave him, her hands firmly stuck in his hair. He felt blissful, on edge, and so, _so good_ , all at once.

It surprised him, though, when he felt her clenching around him. It surprised him when her breathy moans climbed higher, rising until she gasped almost silently. Rhythmically she pulsed around his cock, and it was all he could do to pull himself free and spend himself into the dirt below. He gasped, holding himself in hand, waiting for the throbbing to subside so he could relax a little more. Riley’s fingers encouraged him through it, threading through his hair tenderly, stroking up his forearm. She lay panting in the dirt, and when he looked up at her face he caught the briefest of smiles flash across her face.

_He wanted to swallow smile that with a kiss_.

“Damn...” Riley said after a moment, sitting up when he had so that she could help him tuck himself away. His arms felt like jello, and his legs weren’t quite cooperating yet. “You... did a real good job.” He felt her hand in his hair again, and a kiss settle on the crown of his head. He smiled lazily, and slowly began to climb to his feet. Behind him Riley had found her jeans again, and a boot that had somehow fallen off in the fray, and was dressing herself once more. She helped him tuck in his shirt, and pull up his braces, and once he was presentable again she tugged him down by the shirt to kiss him square on the mouth.

“Still think yer a bad man?” She asked, and when he didn’t answer she rolled her eyes. “A bad man woulda taken me regardless of what I wanted. A bad man, like you think you are, wouldn’ta stopped when I was on my knees. A bad man wouldn’ta fucked me till I came on his cock. Arthur, y’aint a bad man. You’re a _damn_ good one. And best of all? You’re _my_ man.” The way she spoke, so sure of herself and so confident, it made Arthur shiver and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Slowly he wound his arms around her waist, and buried his head into her shoulder. She hummed, satisfied, and wound her arms around his neck.

“Any time you feel like that, please just talk t’me? I will always, _always_ help you feel better. I will gladly remind you of why you’re a good man, ten times over if I have’ta. Please, for me... go _easy_ on yourself?” He nodded dumbly into her shoulder, clutching her so tightly to his chest he could have melted into her body. They stood like that for a few minutes, breathing in the scent of each other, and allowing himself to be comforted by her hold.

It was sometime later that they decided to set up a little camp away from home. A little time away was needed, and they could easily use the excuse of having gone hunting if questioned. Sitting beside the fire, with Riley under one arm and a bottle of whiskey in the other, he felt the weight of the day’s job slowly rinse from his muscles. One day soon, he hoped, she’d stop reminding him that he was a good man. One day soon, he’d _know_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did someone order smut with a side of dubcon and feelings? Order up! 
> 
> (I am... sorry,,,,)


	25. Furr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Furr by Blitzen Trapper - 
> 
> "So from the cliffs and highest hill  
> Yeah, we would gladly get our fill  
> Howling endlessly and shrilly at the dawn  
> And I lost the taste for judging right from wrong  
> For my flesh had turned to fur, yeah  
> And my thoughts, they surely were  
> Turned to instinct and obedience to God"

It had been a quiet few days since Riley had ridden out on a job with Arthur, though it felt like months. Her partner had been busy, and so had she, but that didn’t stop her from missing the man whenever he was away from camp for more than a day at a time. The last she’d seen Arthur he’d been riding out for an evening ball or something with the boys, all dressed up in finery. Something about an invite from the mayor and something else to do with the Italian man who’d taken Jack. She hadn’t voiced her concerns about the party, she didn’t have anything other than a gut feeling to go on about it, so instead she’d put on a smile. Riley had kissed him goodbye and wished him luck, as she usually did, and began to focus on camp chores to keep the beast of Grimshaw at bay. Hours later, well into the night, some of the men had returned. Lenny, Dutch, Hosea and Bill... But they’d said Arthur had taken off to deal with some other business pretty soon after the party. It had been a whole two days since she’d seen him last, and Riley was trying her best to focus on her tasks. Better to focus anxious energy on something productive rather than stewing in it and becoming unbearable to be around.

So that morning she did just that; kept herself busy. She’d already taken the girls into town to do some shopping that afternoon, something only she and a few members of the gang were able to do now they were no longer welcome in Rhodes. At least her face hadn’t been associated with the Van Der Linde’s yet, so she was a good candidate for getting the supplies they needed as and when they needed them. As she rode back in at the forefront of the carriage, Tilly beside her and Abigail with Jack and Mary-Beth in the back, Riley noticed one more horse than usual in the camp. The speckled mare stood beside Trigger, grazing on hay as Kieran lazily brushed her mane. Riley’s breath caught in her throat momentarily as she scanned the camp. It meant Arthur was back.

After driving the horses closer to camp and helping unload the wagon of supplies, Riley found herself immediately climbing the stairs of the plantation house to their shared room. The door was slightly ajar when she reached for the handle, pushing it open to peek inside. Arthur stood with his back to the door, his hands planted on the table with his map sprawled out in front of him. He seemed to be concentrating, so much so that he didn’t notice when Riley slipped in and slowly approached. He was shirtless, wearing nothing but a clean pair of dark jeans and his boots. Riley’s mouth watered just looking at him, his broad shoulders and muscled back. Her fingers ached to touch, but she had a better idea. Settling her back against the wall, Riley folded her arms across her chest and smirked, clearing her throat.

“Finally decided t’make an appearance?” She asked, one brow quirked and a sly smirk settled on her lips.

Arthur visibly tensed as he whipped around, but the surprise soon melted into a soft grin, lazy and lopsided. Whatever plan she’d thought of was soon banished as she practically threw herself at the man. Arthur caught her in his arms, holding her close as he bent to meet a kiss he could tell both of them needed desperately. It was quick and warm, and everything she’d craved since he’d gone to the party. Her chest tightened, her hands wandered, and she felt a calm surround them.

So all in all Riley shouldn’t be thinking about how she’d got herself into this situation, especially when it was her own doing. Her own _teasing_ , her _kisses_ , the way she ran her hands all over his exposed chest and back. Obviously he was going to respond in kind, and _respond_ he did.

Laying on her back, her clothes forgotten or lost into the shadows of the room, Riley’s chest rose and fell with each gasp of breath. She was being _ruined_ , thoroughly and wickedly, by the man between her thighs. Her fingers clenched in his hair, and she felt herself arch from the bed as his tongue and fingers brought her over the edge for the fifth time that evening. Her toes curled, her fingers spasmed, and it was all she could do to keep her sounds as quiet as possible. Even so, a very small and very high pitched whine came from her throat.

She was sweating, soaking the sheets beneath them and causing her hair to stick to her skin in tight curls. Arthur wasn’t done, of course. Whilst he’d been giving her a thorough tongue fucking of a lifetime he hadn’t _once_ reached for himself. Not once did his hands move from her hips or her thighs, and while she felt so oversensitive and overstimulated, all she wanted was to have him inside her. And the real issue she had with this situation if you could call it an issue at all, was that he was silent through the entire thing. Not one word from his otherwise occupied mouth, barely even a grunt of a groan. At this point she’d take anything, even a comment on the weather, just to hear his deep voice soothing her from the outside in.

“ _Arthur_...?” She whispered, blinking open her eyes as the aftershocks began to fade and her skin tingled with the cooling air blowing from this cracked open window. “C’mon, say somethin’, I wanna hear you _talkin’_ t’me...”

****Nothing****.

Riley whined, frustrated. Her requests fell on deaf ears just as they had since they’d started. He was thoroughly involved in whatever plan he had hatched, and while it was incredible to experience, she was coming to the end of her tether. His hands moved like silk across her stomach and sides, his eyes pinned on her as he pressed kisses up and down the inside of her thigh.

“Please...? You want me t’beg? I can beg _real_ preddy for you, Arthur, I can... Please talk t’me, _please_...” Her voice was ruined as she babbled haplessly into her own forearm, locking her hands in the headboard above her head. Between her thighs, absentmindedly pressing light kisses to her stomach, her thighs, her hips, Arthur gave a quiet _growl_. It shocked through her veins like sharp whiskey, and she groaned softly. His kisses trailed higher, slick lips pressing warm kisses over her breasts and nipples, lathering each one in attention to make them stand stiff. She fidgeted beneath him, heels digging into the bed to rise up and attempt to give him some friction as well. God only knew how hard he must have been. Her mouth watered at the mere thought of his cock, flushed red and aching for her like she was for him.

Arthur’s lips trailed up over her collar bones, nipping and licking his way across every patch of skin he could reach before finally he had her lips on his. Riley all but sobbed beneath him, her arms winding desperately around his neck only to be forced back onto the bed by two sure hands. She gasped, flexed her fingers, and opened her eyes to meet ocean blues with gentle greens.

He hovered there, out of reach of her straining hips, but close enough that his chest was against hers and his lips were _centimetres_ away. She closed her eyes one more time, nudged her nose against his jaw, and whispered another beg against his lips. This time, he conceded. This time he gave in and growled deep in his chest.

“ ** _ **Sweetheart**_**.” His fingers tightened, ever so slightly, around her wrists and her entire body _melted_ under the deep burr from his chest. His voice resonated deep in her bones, vibrating from the inside out and sending shock waves of pleasure right to her clit.

“Oh _fuck_ -” Riley gasped, high and needy.

Arthur was chuckling, god damn laughing as he leaned over her, pinning her to the bed with barely any of his strength. He was holding back, and that thought had her clenching her thighs together, desperately trying to relieve some of the eagerness that had since returned.

“You’re so pretty for me, Sweetheart.” Arthur continued, voice so low it could only be considered a growl. She melted under his touch as his hands gave a sure squeeze around her wrists. _Keep them there_ , that hold said. She would do absolutely anything if it meant him talking like that.

“You look so _ruined_ like this, _five_ orgasms in an’ _still_ wantin’ my cock?” He hummed, pleased as she practically purred in response. “You gonna be good fer me, Sweetheart? I know, I know... I gotcha...” So soothing, so calming, his words held her tightly and caused warmth to spread through her limbs.

“I gotta show you how crazy you make me, Sweetheart, you wanna see?” Riley nodded, frantically, so eager to do what he wanted. He grabbed one of her hands and pulled it down, letting go once he rested her fingers against his zipper. “Touch me.” He instructed, but his voice was so soft, a simple breath of a command.

Riley unzipped Arthur’s jeans and slid her hand inside, the rough fabric grazing her knuckles as she slipped her hand around his waiting cock. Hot and heavy in her palm, Riley realized something that made her breath catch in her throat. He was wet, already slick with his own come. He’d already come, just from fucking her with his tongue, and here he was already hard and wanting and-

“Oh fuck...” She whispered, working her hand up and down his shaft to see if she could elicit a response. All she got was a deep laugh, and her hand was removed and placed back over her head.

“I will soon, Sweetheart. Jus’ had ta’ show ya what you do to me... Layin’ there like that, so relaxed an’ wantin’, all for me... So pretty for me...” His voice was on the verge of sounding as wrecked as he looked, a thought Riley would cherish on nights when Arthur wasn’t warming her bed.

Arthur shifted to his own neglected self, finally pulling down his jeans just over the curve of his ass, enough to free his cock and give him room to work. Instinctively her thighs parted, and she was rewarded with an open-mouthed kiss to her sternum as he lined himself up. The first push was slow, gentle, and above her, Arthur closed his eyes like a man lost in prayer. His hair was a mess, twisted this way and that with the direction of her own hands. His cheeks were flush, and his pupils blown so wide anyone could have mistaken him for a man _possessed_. His chest and shoulders wore a similar layer of sweat like she did, and she watched as it dripped down between his pecs and across his stomach. Her jaw twitched, and her tongue ached to follow the trail back up to his mouth.

Finally, _finally_ , he seated himself within her, one arm holding himself up over her with his free hand clenched around her thigh. She’d bruise there, she hoped. She’d like to trace the shapes of his fingers with her own in the morning. Arthur dropped back down once he was satisfied with how deep he was inside her, and promptly bit a mark into the joint between her neck and shoulder. She couldn’t help it, she cried out with the thick pleasure-pain that drowned her, clenching around him tightly and twisting the bedsheets in her hands. Almost as quick as he’d dropped he was back up, one hand tight over her mouth.

“ _Darlin’_ you’ll wake the entire camp if you continue like that.” He said, dropping his head back down to press soothing kisses and licks to the mark he’d made. All the while his hand didn’t move and neither did his hips, so Riley took it as an opportunity to loose a languid groan, breathing heavily through her nose.

“ _Sweetheart_...” It was a warning, a soft rule that she accepted instantly. Stay quiet, keep your hands up, and it will be everything you could ever want it to be.

Riley nodded against his hand, smiling lazily when he rewarded her with an ever so gentle kiss on the mouth. Now uncovered, she bit her lower lip to remind herself to be quiet and focused on the way Arthur’s hips began to slowly rock. She felt the delicious drag of his cock inside of her, teasing at what was to come, seeing how far he could take it before desperation overtook both of them. She writhed, her hands once again finding purchase in the sheets just for something to hold onto. After a minute or two, or maybe it was an hour, Arthur finally began to lose his control. His hips twitched and snapped with each thrust, slowly getting deeper, harder and faster. She moaned softly, eyes shut, mouth open head tilted back in pure pleasure.

“Touch me, Sweetheart.” Arthur’s voice was thick, ruined, raspy as he tried to keep himself quiet. In an instant Riley had her hands in his hair, holding on tightly as she tugged him down for a messy kiss. Their teeth clinked together, lips bruising, tongues fighting and tasting. Arthur tasted like her, and she loved it. She loved the way he looked at her like she hung the damn moon, she loved the way he cradled her cheek like she was something breakable, yet dug his fingers into her thigh with each thrust of his hips. She loved his hair, thick and soft under her fingers, but most of all she loved his eyes. Strong blue oceans watching her as she reached her peak, tumbling over and over once again until she was muffling her own cry into his lips. He swallowed it all down easily, pulling back to rest his forehead against hers as his rhythm became frantic.

“I love you, god damn, I love you, so much-” Arthur panted, and Riley felt her heart soar, She tugged gently on his hair, urging him into another kiss, and locked her legs around his waist.

“I love you too, Arthur, so freakin’ much,” Her voice was quiet, raspy with use, and it only took another thrust of his hips before Arthur was coming. He pulsed within her, fucking his spend into her with urgent twitches of his hips. She cradled him to her chest, threading her fingers through his hair, stroking as he came down from his high.

“Shit... Shit, Darlin’ I’m sorry, I meant ta’...” He stuttered, cursing as he slowly pulled out of her and collapsed on his back beside her. Riley smiled a lazy and languid smile, and shook her head.

“Ain’t no bother.” She said, rolling onto her side to cuddle under Arthur’s arm. He held her close, despite the heat and despite their sweat-soaked bodies. “Besides... I kinda like the idea of maybe havin’ a lil’ Arthur runnin’ around.”

His arms tensed around her, and for a moment Riley thought she’d said the wrong thing. An apology was making it’s way to her lips when she heard him give a small sigh, and press a kiss to the crown of her head.

“Maybe I like that idea too.” He whispered into her hair, like he was telling a great secret. Riley wound her arm around his middle and settled into his shape, moulding to him almost perfectly, pillowing her head on his chest.

It wasn’t long before she fell asleep to the gentle thrum of Arthur’s heartbeat in her ear, and the soothing sensation of his fingers combing through her hair.

When Riley awoke the next morning she was alone. It was a horrible feeling, but a necessary one in their line of work. She’d let herself lie there, watching the sunrise over the trees through the window, before finally getting up and getting dressed. Just before she left she grabbed her hat from the map table and noticed a small slip of paper fall from the top of it. She picked it up and inspected it closely, smiling when she noticed it was Arthur’s elegant scrawl.

_Gone robbing with Dutch and Lenny in Saint Denis. Stay out of town for a while. Might cause trouble. I Love you._

_Arthur_

With the note tucked into her breast pocket, Riley began her daily chores with a smile on her face that even Miss Grimshaw couldn’t screech away. After all, nothing could ruin a love-struck fool like her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ,,,,,,,, I mean. 
> 
> This chapter is literally just self-indulgent don't @ me.
> 
> Why? BECAUSE I WANNA. 
> 
> Real story and plot coming soon lmao I'm so sorry


	26. Deeper Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Deeper Conversations by Yuna - 
> 
> "I've let my guard down for you  
> And in time you will too  
> And if you don't mind  
> Can you tell me  
> All your hopes and fears  
> And everything that you believe in  
> Would you make a difference in the world  
> I'd love for you to take me to a deeper conversation  
> Only you can make me"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note; 
> 
> This fic is no longer being beta read, so I apologise if the quality of the writing goes down a bit. Please inform me of any inconsistencies or errors in the writing and I'll do my best to correct them as I go. 
> 
> Thank you for your patience <3

_Seems those of us who thought Angelo Bronte was a lizard in a suit was right and them as thought he was a gentleman thief eager to help us on our merry way was wrong. Bastard sent us into a trap in town. Told us to rob a trolley station - no money but an entire police force waiting for us._

_Dutch nearly died._

_Lenny fought real hard - the kid is good in a fight - and saved us all. Dutch is planning some big escape for us all. Some grand master plan. Everything we are attempting here seems troubled. I hope we can get out of here ALIVE._

_Right now, it don’t seem likely. Dutch is raging about Bronte’s deception or betrayal or whatever quite it was. Dutch don’t like being made a fool of. Even Micah with all his teasing and needling plays it real cool with Dutch. I would not want to be Bronte right now._

_I cannot see Dutch letting this pass._

It took Arthur a whole day out in the wilderness with just himself and his horse before he felt safe enough to return to camp. When he did, he was careful. His tracks were concealed, he doubled back on himself several times and made sure to stop in Rhodes just to confuse his tracks in case the law was still onto him. He had no idea what Dutch and Lenny did after he split from them, but he knew the drill himself by now. Get good and lost for a while, and then come home when you’re sure you’re not being followed. It was the one rule Dutch always installed in them from a young age, a phrase etched behind his eyelids and implanted so firmly in his brain it was second nature.

So when Arthur did return to camp, of course, he was met with an armful of Riley, all smiles and bright eyes to see him home safe. His own expression was not something that matched her sunny disposition, and as he walked up to their room with her holding tight to his arm he couldn’t help but feel his shoulders sag as he explained what had happened. It was never good when a job went under, but that one had been... spectacularly disastrous. Almost orchestrated. Arthur had his suspicions, his aches about the situation, but he didn’t have a substantial thought about it yet. Mostly, Arthur was just damn tired. That trolley had crashed so hard he had bruises across his ribs that were slowly turning blue. He’d been incredibly surprised he hadn’t broken any bones in the crash, even more so that he came away with nothing more than a few scrapes and a pounding head. But it wasn’t himself he was worried for, really. It was Dutch.

Dutch, with his double vision and sudden snappiness. Dutch, not knowing where they were for a split second when they’d exited Saint Denis on a stolen coach. The swelling on his forehead, and the way his eyes seemed out of focus while they shot at the law for their very lives. It didn’t settle right in Arthur’s stomach, but if Dutch said he was fine then... he was fine.

“Arthur. A word.” Dutch’s voice beckoned him over to the balcony at the front of the house. He stood with his back to them, billowing smoke from a lit cigar between his lips. It was a sight Arthur was used to seeing.

With a small apology, Arthur cupped Riley’s cheek in his hand before parting with her. She simply smiled, gave his palm a gentle kiss, and went downstairs. They’d catch up later, he hoped.

The ‘word’ with Dutch turned out to be a bit of a bitch about Bronte. His father figure sure did have an arsenal of colourful language at his disposal, and Arthur heard more words he’d been told not to use as a boy in the space of five minutes than he ever had from a single conversation with Dutch. So he’d stayed quiet and let him rant, talking about maybe hitting the bank next, to really piss off Bronte. Or maybe Bronte himself, repay him for the fool's errand he’d forced them on. Arthur replied when Dutch wanted him to, with words he knew Dutch wanted to hear. Affirmations that the Italian wouldn’t get away with it, all until Dutch was leaning against the balcony railings and lighting up a fresh cigar. He shared it with Arthur, a rare treat as Dutch only smoked the finest of cigars.

“I have a plan. I want to run it by Hosea first before we do anything but-”

A shrill scream pulled both men away from the conversation. Across the camp a horse was walking towards the house, the rider sat stiffly in the saddle. Whoever it was was quite short, but had long legs and appeared to be quite wet. As the horse got closer the gasps started, and another one of the girls screamed.

“It’s _Kieran_!” Mary-Beth shouted, her hands covering her mouth.

It _was_ Kieran. That poor kid that they’d not seen in a few days, supposedly out getting oats and grain for the horses. A rumour had spread around camp that he’d gone back to the O’Driscols, but Arthur knew he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

And here’s _why_.

In the lap of the rider was a head, severed from its body and still dripping blood. The eyes had been gouged out and the tongue too. The sight made Arthur’s stomach coil, and instinctively he reached for his pistol, holding the familiar weight in his palm as Dutch swore loudly.

“What the _hell_ they done to him?” Arthur growled, teeth clenching.

“Look. Over there, in the tree line... EVERYONE TAKE COVER!” Dutch was yelling now, gesturing to his family below as he ducked behind one of the old house’s pillars. Arthur did the same, watching attentively as the first of the O’Driscols broke through the tree line to take cover behind stacked crates and sacks. Gunfire reigned down swiftly after that. As soon as Arthur was sure their gang was safely behind the doors of the house or otherwise crouched behind cover, he let loose with his rifle.

It took all of ten minutes to shoot them away, cowards running back to Colm with their tails tucked between their legs. In the fight, Arthur had kept half an eye out for Riley, and when he’d found her crouched behind a pillar with Sadie, both of them firing their weapons like women to be reckoned with, he felt a swell of pride. His woman sure did know how to look after herself, but it didn’t stop the urge to grab her tight and bring her inside where there were no stray bullets. He could see the way bullets ricocheted off of the pillar, chipping bits of white dust away that landed on her hair and shoulders. He bit back a curse as he rushed downstairs to help push back the intruders, intent to get as close to his girl as possible to keep her safe. He felt almost feral with it, a sort of feral need raging in his chest as he shot any O’Driscol stupid enough to edge closer to his _family_.

The chaos was more noise than injury. Thankfully, through diligent work from himself and the gang, the O’Driscol scum were driven away. As they stood to survey the camp, it was then that Arthur realized that none of his family was hurt. A little shaken up, maybe, but nobody was hit. When the danger had passed the first thing Arthur did was seek out Riley.

She stood beside Sadie, talking quietly with the other woman with a satisfied smirk on her face that quickly melted into something softer when she saw Arthur approaching. Her hair was tied back in a braid, her hat missing, and she held a hand up to her brow to keep the sun out of her eyes. Arthur walked over quickly, taking long strides until he stood before her, surveying her for potential injury. He had a hard look on his face, something that caused her to frown a little until she was pulled swiftly into his arms and held in a tight embrace. As much as he knew she could look after herself, and damn well knew she was a competent gunslinger, he _needed_ to assure himself she was alright.

“Hey there, big guy.” She whispered soothingly into his ear, quiet enough that nobody would hear. Her arms were around his neck and he took the opportunity to bury his face into her shoulder, breathing in the scent of leather and sweat and something so distinctly Riley that it made his heartache.

“Bad day?” Riley muttered, stroking soothing fingers under his hat, trailing them down to his neck. Arthur simply grunted, his protective grip tightening a little before slowly relaxing. He pulled back, just enough to look at her properly, and laid his forehead down against hers.

“You could say that.” He surrendered, sighing as her smooth hand came to rest against his cheek. It was amazing, really, how much of an effect she had on him. It was incredible how hard he’d fallen for this woman, and how fast she’d had him wrapped around her little finger. Faster and more willing than he had been with Mary, actually.

A few days prior to Kieran’s death, someone had left a letter on Arthur’s table. It lay untouched for a little while because he recognized that handwriting, the gentle slope of the A with the curling of the T. He knew Mary’s hand anywhere. He’d left it until he couldn’t anymore, curiosity getting the better of him, an itch he just had to scratch. When he’d finished reading the letter he’d sighed, considered for a moment or two, and then lit it against the flame of the candle by his bedside without a second thought. As nice of a man as he was to want to help a lady in need, Mary Linton was a chapter in his life that he had to close. No more requests, no more guilt trips, and now no more pining. He had someone to hold him at night who didn’t make him feel like shit every time he went out robbing. He had someone who _loved_ all his flaws as well as his finer points, who assured him that there _were_ finer points, to begin with. He had hope, for the first time in years, that maybe this fucked way of life could yield something pure and good. That maybe he was allowed to have something good.

* * *

Talk of the bank job was on everyone’s lips for the rest of the night and most of the next day. Arthur had been quick to take some cold meat and bread from Pearson’s wagon, along with a flask of whiskey and a waterskin, before retiring to his room. Riley had followed, and as soon as he’d sat down on his bed she was there, pulling off his hat and combing her fingers through his hair. She’d encouraged him to eat what he’d found, forcing him to drink water before the whiskey he so naturally craved.

After, Riley had wet a rag and used it to clean off his face, moving down to his hands and neck. She’d undone his shirt and wiped his shoulders clean, running the damp rag over his back and chest followed closely by her lips on every bruise she found. There was nothing sexual about it, nothing but intimacy that made Arthur want to sink into the bed. She was feather-light as she removed his belt and boots, helping to take off his jeans and fold them over the chair in the corner of the room. The light of the day slowly faded to purples and dark blues of evening, stars twinkling eagerly against any spec of space they could find. In their room, Riley lit a few candles and stripped down to one of Arthur’s own cotton shirts and her drawers, an outfit he was used to seeing her sleep in. At some point, he’d been laid down on the bed and Riley had fit herself nicely into his side, lying facing him with one leg hooked over his hip and her hand resting gently on his chest. He watched as she drew nonsensical patterns into his skin and allowed himself to relax, the tension of the day rinsed from his shoulders under the gentle fingertips that explored them.

When he opened his eyes to look up, he could see his lover’s eyes were glassy with far-away thought. Taking the opportunity to watch her, Arthur found his heart clenching. What had he done in his fools life to deserve such a wonder as her?

“J-... Riley.” He had to stop calling her by her last name, a habit he had for most of his friends. He knew she liked the way her name rolled off his tongue. Her name brought her back to the present, and she hummed lightly before resting her chin on her free palm. “Sometimes... Sometimes you make me feel like my heart’s gonna explode.”

The awkwardly worded admission was well worth it to see the fire light in her eyes, and the smile spread across her pretty face. He couldn’t help but mirror it, one of his hands coming up to cup her cheek in a rough palm.

“I only say it ‘cause it’s true, darlin’. I ain’t felt this way in such a long time... Ain’t never wanted to. But you just.. light up my day when it’s dark. I got it bad for you, sweetheart.” And it seemed now he’d started he couldn’t stop, words spilling from untrained lips just to fuel the fire in her eyes. She laughed softly, a musical sound, and nuzzled her nose into his wrist. His fingers trailed to her hair, now loose around her shoulders, and took to spinning a few strands around his fingers. “I wanna capture your likeness in my drawings but I ain’t got nearly enough talent to put you down on paper. Your smile, your eyes, how can a man draw the way your laughter sounds? I have tried, of course. There’s a lot of you in my journal now, an’ I like to find a few of them to jus’ look at when I’m away from you for too long. One day we should take a picture, a proper one with a man an’ a camera. I’d like that.”

Fine hairs rose on his arms as Riley gently turned her head to kiss at his wrist, pink lips contrasting nicely against his tanned skin.

“You got me so in love I can hardly breathe right anymore.” The words drifted between them, warm from rough lips flowing directly into softer ones as Riley kissed them from his tongue. He melted under her touch, continuing to whisper soft secrets into her hair as she trailed kisses down his neck, gentle rewards for words he so freely gave.

He made love to her gently that night, lovingly and tenderly taking her thigh over his own as they lay connected on their sides. And Riley, as gentle and soft as she was, rounded his edges when she sat in his lap with the blanket wrapped around her shoulders to keep the chill of the night at bay, and slowly rocked into his every thrust. At some point their hands linked, fingers held tightly against each other as she chased her pleasure again and again. Arthur whispered those words over and over as she chased his lips, breathing each other's breaths until they reached their crescendos together with soft gasps and fluttering lashes.

* * *

In the morning the plan was laid out by Dutch in front of most of the gang. The bank robbery was perfect, even Hosea thought so and that instilled a lot of confidence in Arthur. Riley and Sadie would stay with the camp, keep an eye out for more O’Driscols or their like. As much as Arthur didn't like the idea of leaving her alone like that so soon after the drama with Kieran, he also didn’t want her in the bank when they robbed the place. It was too dangerous, and in the back of his mind, he knew something was going to go astray somewhere along the line. He’d pushed it down as he rode out with his brothers on what was promised to be their last job before they found new land and new lives. He told himself it was fine, that things were good for them, that luck was on their side.

Oh, how _wrong_ he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was feeling real soft when I wrote this chapter, thanks to this song. I'm just trying to advance plot so I apologise if it's a little sporadic. And I know I got the two events backwards, Kieran dies before the trolley robbery, but I'd already written it and didn't feel like changing it so... here we are I guess 
> 
> Anyway lmao thanks for reading pals


	27. Mountain Hymn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Mountain Hymn by Christian Larsson - 
> 
> "The day is done, time has come  
> You battled hard, the war is won  
> You did your worst, you tried your best  
> Now it's time to rest  
> Now it's time to rest"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bank robbery.

Some days when Arthur returned from a job he’d have a smile on his weary face and money in his pocket. On those days he would insist upon taking Riley into town to celebrate with a cold beer and a night under the stars. He’d point out constellations that she was fairly sure were wrong, but she’d lie against his chest and hum and nod anyhow. Sometimes you didn’t need to be right all the time, you just had to live in the moment. Those nights she cherished their laughter and stupid jokes. She learned more about him than she ever thought possible. His first bar fight, his first gunfight, his first horse. She learned about his poor father and his mother, how he’d fallen in love and had his heartbroken. In turn, she’d tell her own stories, eager for him to learn just as much as she was learning. On the most recent night, Arthur had presented her with a gold chain necklace he’d found while on a robbery. He’d thought it pretty and taken it for her specifically, he’d said. Riley had felt his fingers linger around her neck and shoulders as he set the clasp, followed by a gentle kiss to the nape of her neck. Now that necklace sat heavy against her breast, tucked between her shirt and chemise, a consistent reminder of the soft side of her dangerous outlaw. Nights like that were, in their own way, perfect.

Some days Arthur came home angry and tired with no money at all. Maybe he’d have an injury or two, his horse would be bleary-eyed and him even more so. On those days she’d take him upstairs and help him to bed, wipe off the worst of the dirt with a wet cloth and sink into the sheets with him. Sometimes she’d help him forget his worries with her mouth and her tongue, other times she simply held him as he slept soundly in their bed.

But there had never come a day when Arthur came home looking so... lost. So unsure, so empty and devoid of rational thought. A man lost to the fickle grasp of memory. That man was riding into camp now behind Dutch, Bill and Lenny. It was almost two in the morning, too late for them to be returning from any ordinary job, and it made the hairs on the back of Riley’s neck stand up just watching them. The men were silent, almost uncharacteristically so. They hitched their horses and strode off in different directions. Dutch to find Hosea, John to find Abigail, Lenny and Bill to find food and Arthur... Just stood there.

Riley watched from the balcony, arms folded across her chest, hair loose and billowing in the slightly cool night wind. She shifted on bare feet, watching with a small crease in her brow as Arthur seemed to go through the motions of hitching Gypsy up beside Trigger. He brushed his mare down and fed her a carrot, and after making sure her tack was all set on a nearby log he slowly began to meander up to the big plantation house. Riley’s eyes followed him inside, catching the way his gaze seemed far off and his footsteps heavy. Something had happened on that job. While she didn’t know the details of it, a short conversation with Abigail earlier told her it was something to do with Bronte, that snake of a man who’d set them up for that trolley heist gone wrong. She’d guessed it had been a revenge game, and judging by the way Arthur’s eyes failed to meet hers when she greeted him at the door to their room it must have been a particularly painful experience.

While days like this were not something she was used to, Riley did her best to help him out of it. She spoke softly, first asking if he wanted to talk about what had happened and when he declined with a short shake of his head, she’d handed him the waterskin she kept by the bed. He drained it empty, and while a little colour seemed to return to his cheeks she still worried for the man. It took ten minutes for her to help him clean up and get him into bed, and when his back hit the mattress he turned onto his side to face the room, a silent request for comfort. Immediately Riley acquiesced and moulded herself to his back. Her arm looped around his waist, her nose burrowing into the nape of his neck, and her fingers finding his to clamp them together. She felt more than heard the small sigh of relief as she nestled in close, trying to cover as much of him as possible. His fingers squeezed around hers, a thank you, and she let him drift off into what would prove to be an uneasy sleep.

That morning proved to be an incredibly busy one. Almost at the break of dawn, the entire gang was up and alert, moving around to start the day and prepare for the mission. Without much sleep, Arthur looked like a dead man walking, as he hastily pulled on his boots and leather bandolier. In the back of her mind, Riley had told herself she’d ask him what had happened that night, why he’d come home looking like he’d lost a part of his own soul. Had something gone wrong with Bronte? Had he escaped? Called the law down on them again? It was all she could do to bite her tongue when her man was so _visibly_ distressed about it, but maybe dredging up last night’s events was a bad idea.

Downstairs the gang was abuzz with activity. Miss Grimshaw was barking out orders to anyone that would listen, or have the misfortune of getting in her way. Pearson was dishing out breakfast and bread, and even an extra portion of fruit to those going out on the bank robbery today. Dutch had spent hours a few days prior assigning detailed roles to those that were attending, and those who were not. He’d taken both her and Sadie aside to ask them if they would ‘do the honour’ of looking after the camp while the men were away. And while Riley wanted to be with Arthur on that mission, keep the fool of a man from getting hurt or throwing himself in front of a bullet for someone, she knew her role was just as important as anyone elses. With the majority of the men gone that left the camp thread bear for protectors. So, maybe, she didn’t mind it so much. Her and Sadie made one hell of a team, after all. However unlikely it was for their camp to be raided, Riley felt comfort in knowing Dutch trusted her to keep them safe.

It was around mid-morning when the gang set off. Javier, Bill, Dutch and Arthur riding in front, Hosea and Abigail in a wagon, Charles and Lenny bringing up the rear. Of course, Micah was involved, wearing a bright white suit that screamed ‘please shoot me’ and Riley’s gun hand twitched every time she locked eyes on him. Everyone else was dressed in their finery, even Arthur had donned a nice suit with a red cravat that Riley had helped him tuck in. He’d left the majority of his gear with her, almost all of his guns and his belongings such as his journal and satchel. He’d kissed her once on the forehead as she stood on the porch of the house, his best rifle in her hands and her jaw locked. She felt uneasy about leaving him, but... He was a grown man. He could make his own decisions, judgments and assumptions. Whatever had happened last night was clearly no longer on his mind, or his mind was otherwise engaged. His thumb travelled lightly down her cheek, and his eyes drank in the sight of her. Ever so slowly he parted, turning his back to the old house and mounting his horse.

Riley and Sadie watched as the men rode off to Saint Denis together until one by one they all disappeared behind the trees and swamps. She stood there for a little while longer, well until after everyone else had wandered off to focus on their chores, just watching the path they’d taken and wondering to herself how long it would be until she heard the galloping of hooves signalling the arrival of what she’d come to think of as her family.

For the majority of the day Riley stood on guard duty with Karen, switching off with Sadie at some point to get some rest and some food. Riley couldn’t stay still. She flickered like a frantic flame eager for fuel between job after job until there was nothing left for her to do. Wood had been chopped, saddles had been cleaned, campfires lit and stew prepared. It was only when evening was slowly approaching that she finally found some relief in the form of a game of poker with the girls.

Sadie and Pearson were on watch around the outskirts of the camp while Riley, Mary-Beth, Karen and Tilly all played with coins from their own pockets. With her mind elsewhere Riley lost a third of her money before she knew it, but wasn’t so put out. Her eyes kept drifting to the trees beyond the swamps, ears straining for any sign of life. As much as she tried to convince herself she was listening and looking for danger, she couldn’t fool herself. She was looking for Arthur.

“Three aces! Hah, come to momma...” Tilly slid her hands around the pot and scooped up the cents gathered in the middle of the table. She added the money to her own pile, making a show of counting up her winnings as Karen groaned and drained her beer.

“Come on, Jameson, you’re usually way better than this. The men will be fine, they is men after all. Boneheaded, lousy men, but men all the same. They can look after themselves.” Tilly said with a smile and playfully shoved her hand into Riley’s side.

With a small sigh and an apologetic smile, Riley turned her attention fully to the game. “Sorry, Tilly. Guess I just get a lil’ worried when he’s out, is all.”

Mary-Beth crooned softly, Karen all but gagged, but Miss Grimshaw set her eyes on her with a knowing look. When had she even come to the table? Riley had no idea. How out of it was she?

“Like Miss Tilly says... they’ll be fine. You somehow managed to tie down the biggest and baddest of us all and turned him into some kinda stuffed bear, but I’ll be damned if he’d let anythin’ happen to himself before takin’ care of the rest of us first. You gotta trust them, trust _him_.” For all her screeching around camp, Riley sometimes forgot that Susan Grimshaw was as much a mother figure to the gang as they would ever get. While Molly was a similar age, she usually spent her time brooding up in her room or writing obscure poetry by herself. Karen was, well, _Karen_ , and Tilly and Mary-Beth were both too young to know better. As much as she hated to admit it, Miss Grimshaw had a point.

Riley cast her a thankful smile and nodded her head, turning back to the table with her game face on.

“Alright, ladies... Who's ready to up the stakes a lil’ bit. I’m all in.”

It was late in the evening when Riley finally decided to get some sleep. After being on watch for most of the day she could feel blisters forming under her boots and thin socks. Her thoughts began to drift as she settled her gun against the wall and stepped onto the balcony for one final smoke before bed.

When Arthur came back she decided she’d take him into town. Nowhere near Lemoyne, that is. Maybe Strawberry, maybe even Valentine, but somewhere far away where they could rent a hotel room, have themselves a nice hot dinner and a hotter bath, and spend the evening in each other's mouths. She’d buy him a nice new shirt from the general store as well, a reward for a job well done but also partly because most of his shirts were either blood-stained or fraying. Maybe a fine bottle of imported wine as well, and some sweet candy to mark the occasion. After all, if Dutch was right and this was to be the last big take, then they’d soon be heading out on some boat to some remote island to live as ranchers or farmers or something. Complete isolation away from the craziness of America, free to live as they wanted to live without the laws of iron-clad millionaires to rule over them. A simpler life, with simpler rules, and simpler days.

Riley’s lips curled into a smile as she let herself drift into the daydream of building a little home with Arthur. Four walls and three rooms. One for living, one for sleeping, and one for their children if they had any. The image of Arthur sitting by the fire with a storybook in one hand and their little girl sat on his knee nearly made her eyes sting, and the thought danced behind her eyelids as she exhaled the final drag of smoke into the night air.

It was then that a familiar sound brought her back to reality. Hooves, hard and fast on the worn pathway leading up to the house. The man on the horse was twitchy, whispering something frantically to Sadie as she strode confidently up to him. Being so far away Riley couldn’t make out any of their conversations, so she stubbed out her cigarette and raced down the stairs to meet both the man and Sadie at the porch.

It was Charles. He held his arm in one hand, a bullet having grazed the skin there, his face a picture of pain and adrenaline.

“What happened? Are they dead?” Riley asked, striding forwards, hands out to offer assistance with his injury.

Charles shook his head, grimacing, and panic ignited in Riley’s chest.

“We lost control of the bank, someone ratted us out to the Pinkertons. They knew we were coming. John’s been arrested, they killed Hosea and Lenny. I- I managed to draw them away from the rest but I don’t know what happened after that. I spent hours running from the law, I don’t know where they are. I’m sorry. I don’t know. But we need to leave, fast.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next couple chapters will be from Riley's perspective, as Arthur does not have his journal while in Guarma. 
> 
> A lot of readers asking if Arthur has TB or not, and I gotta say I won't spoil anything about this I want y'all to read it naturally and experience it first hand rather than through little spoilers. I will say, though, that the ending is already planned and I doubt it's what you're all expecting! 
> 
> Good luck making theories, I will neither confirm nor deny them. ;)


	28. One Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- One Love by Marianas Trench - 
> 
> "I wake up tonight feeling paper thin and paper white  
> You say just come back to bed  
> Voice sounds strange, but I soon forget  
> And your sad blue eyes like mine  
> Full of pity now but I don't know why  
> The light dims without regret  
> Still now you're nothing more than a silhouette  
> But just hold quick you're fading right  
> In a cold trick of the light  
> I'm just so sick, I thought you'd might be here  
> But you di-disappear
> 
> Now I wake up and I forget that you were gone  
> Phantom limb is all that I am hanging on  
> Don't stop, no stopping yet  
> What if one true love's the only one that you get?"

“Sadie, go get Miss Grimshaw, tell her to get everyone up and start packing. Charles, I need you on the gates and if you even catch so much as a whiff of Pinkertons you come get me. We’re movin’ out, it ain’t safe here no more.” Riley’s voice was calm and collected, her eyes darting between the man and woman before her. She gave her orders clearly, and with a nod from each of them, they were off to their duties.

There were several things that needed to be done, and too few camp members to do it all. The first thing Riley did was put out the scout fires with buckets of water, blocking all sources of light outside, aside from one or two oil lanterns in the area. Who knew how much time they had, and surely fire and smoke would alert anyone nearby to their whereabouts. With their family scattered, apparently half of them had attempted to stow away on a boat, she had no idea if they were alive or dead. But that’s not something she can focus on right now, she needed to work through it, she needed to get things done. She’d promised Dutch that she’d keep everyone safe and she’d be damned if that’s not what she was going to do right now.

Within minutes she had helped Strauss to hitch up some of the horses to the wagons they used to move their camp. Other horses were saddled up, with the majority of them carrying some kind of camp supply like blankets or tarps. As soon as Sadie had come back and the camp was up and packing, she’d asked her to scout them out a new place to hide. Anywhere was better than here, but it had to be away from Saint Denis. They needed to put some distance between them and Shady Belle as soon as possible. With a tip of her hat and a kick of her heels, Sadie was riding off like a speeding bullet out of camp to find them a new place to settle.

With most of the important jobs taken care of, Riley took the stairs three at a time to get to her room. On her way, she passed by the few remaining members of the gang. Tilly and Karen were helping a very drunk Molly downstairs, Miss Grimshaw held a tired Jack in her arms as she urged him from his room, and Mary-Beth cradled their savings against her breast alongside the ledger. Bypassing them, Riley rounded the corner to get to her room. Inside was so quiet and still, nothing has changed or moved since that morning when she’d woken up to Arthur curled around her like a big bear of a blanket. He’d looked so tired when he’d woken her up, softly, with quiet words and a gentle kiss to her temple.

Biting her lower lip, Riley stifled back the thoughts that threatened to burst to the forefront of her mind and began rooting through their belongings. She tossed Arthur’s satchel onto the bed and upended it, tipping out the contents. Feathers, claws, notes and spare pencils fell amongst the rubble of other found things from his pack, and Riley was careful to put every single one of them back into the satchel when she found what she was after. Arthur’s journal. Whispering a soft apology to the leather book she pulled out a page from the back, and hastily began to scribble a note.

Folding it up she focused on packing the remainder of their room, bringing down crates of ammunition supplies and weapons to be loaded onto the waiting wagons. When Sadie eventually rode back into camp the sun was rising, and her face was flushed red with sweat and heat. She nearly emptied a waterskin by the time she found her voice again, explaining about a sort of shack hiding spot she’d found somewhere in the Lakay swamps. It wasn’t ideal, and there were already men there, but there was no time to be picky.

While Miss Grimshaw worked hard to ensure the camp was entirely packed away and everyone was ready to move out, Riley penned the last few bits of information in her letter. She’d leave it in the main room of the old house, surely the first place the men would come looking for them... if they were to come back at all. Riley swallowed a lump in her throat as she set the note down on the table, and willed herself not to focus too much on the mights and uncertainties. All she could do was act.

_Dear Uncle Tacitus,_

_I do so hope you enjoyed your vacation. Lucky you! Leaving like that. And you always suggested you were too old to travel. I hope you and your cousins enjoyed yourselves. Me and your grand nieces have decided to take a trip of our own as the place has become so dreary and godforsaken in your absence. We have gone to visit relatives (from Daddy’s side. You are not yet acquainted with them) in Lakay, a small village just North of Saint Denis._

_It’s buggy and muggy but apparently neither is too bad at this time of year. Please come see us when you can._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Caroline._

It was the best she could do without much thought. In an old conversation, she remembered Arthur telling her what his alternate name was for his mail. It meant fewer questions and suspicion at the post office or course, and Riley had teased him about the oddness of the name, but ultimately found it to be a very clever idea. She’d come up with her own name on the spot, choosing the name of a friend she’d had growing up. Caroline was perfect for the situation, and if Arthur did turn up back at Shady Belle... well, he’d know what the note meant.

With one last look at the house, Riley drove the main wagon ahead of the rest of the gang with Sadie in the lead. The sun was almost at its high point by the time they found the spot Sadie had been talking about. Riley stayed with the wagons and their skeleton crew while Charles and Sadie took care of the low lifes occupying the shack. It didn’t take long, but it felt like years until the two came back. The next few hours were spent removing bodies from the building and throwing them into the swamps for the gators. They set up a fire for Pearson to begin preparing food, and two stations around their make-shift home for scouts to sit and watch. Karen and Sadie took first watch as Riley and Charles helped to unpack the camp. Finally, with all the essentials unpacked and the rest stowed away on the wagons, Riley approached the small campfire closest to the road they’d used to find the new camp.

Sadie sat on a log with her rifle across her lap, absentmindedly dragging a rag wet with gun oil across the barrel. It was something Riley noticed she did when she was deep in thought, her mind elsewhere while her hands worked automatically. Her own fingers twitched against her sides as she approached the woman, and sat down heavily beside her. They hadn’t unpacked the furs Arthur had hunted for them to make sitting around the fire more comfortable. They’d make do with the odd moss that covered every fallen log in sight.

Neither woman said anything for a while. Riley worried her thumb against her teeth, tapping absentmindedly as she lost herself to her own thoughts.

Trelawney had taken it upon himself to go into town to see if he could find out anything about the missing men. He’d returned an hour before sunset to say that John had been arrested and was being held at the station, but it was too heavily guarded to even think about attempting to get him out. He’d managed to speak to some men on the docks about the others and had discovered that some men had stowed away on a boat headed for some island south of the pacific. That was as much information as they’d come back with, and while it was better than hearing about their deaths it still left an unpleasant feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Throughout the day Riley had managed to keep the baying of her thoughts away with hard labour and distractions. She’d focused on the safety of her family first, pushing aside those awkward worries and that voice in the back of her head that kept screaming-

_What if he’s dead?_

It’s back. That voice, that sound that reminds her of the bad things and the worries. The voice that claims her lack of usefulness, the voice that chides her on each and every decision.

_He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s de-_

Riley clenched her eyes shut tight, and sucked in a long and deep breath. She did it again, and then again until the thudding of her heart ceased to deafen her ears. Eventually, she re-opened her eyes and glanced up at Sadie who simply laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“I know.” She said, softly, squeezing Riley’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright.”

They stayed like that for a minute, simply being in each other’s company before Sadie finally retired back to one of the wagons to find some rest. Riley stood watch the rest of the night, sipping every now and then on whiskey and water, and keeping alert with cigarettes. Come morning, with no sign of their family returning, she defeatedly returned to the house to find some sleep.

* * *

Three days had passed since the gang had moved locations, and from Trelawny’s and Strauss’ recon missions, they’d discovered that John had been moved to a prison on an island not far from Saint Denis. He’d been roped into a chain gang, and there were talks of hanging him publicly for his crimes, but nothing had come of it yet. Sadie, Charles and Riley spent hours together pouring over badly drawn maps of the prison and the water-ways trying to figure out how they would go and get him. They spoke in hushed tones well into the night, candles burning dangerously low and wax dripping from the old waterlogged table they’d dragged inside.

The day that Abigail found out about John’s potential hanging she broke down in tears on the spot. Poor Jack had been terrified, unable to stop himself from sobbing as well until Tilly took the boy to a quiet corner and showed him how to make mud pies with swamp dirt. Distracted, Riley took it upon herself to help Abigail inside and sat her down on the chair closest to the door. She got her cleaned up and gave her some water, and after a few minutes or so she’d been okay. Throughout the week that followed Abigail was prone to fits of hysteria. They were usually quiet, and she kept to herself, but Riley could always tell she’d been crying by the redness of her eyes and the damp on her sleeves. Numerous times she sat beside the girl at night, cradling her head in her lap and stroking through her hair until her tears stopped flowing so freely.

It was only a matter of time before it was her turn.

Riley had returned from hunting empty-handed. The swamps were thick and disgustingly warm, so her clothes stuck to her like a second skin. She’d managed to slip into the waters at some point, and her entire lower half was sodden with grimy swamp water. Her boots were full of it when she finally took them off to soothe her aching feet.

_He’s gone, he’s gone, he’s not coming back, he’s dead, he’s gone, you lost him-_

Frustration ran through her fingers, and without much thought, she threw the boot she was holding at the wall of one of the few rooms in the shack. It was a room she shared with Sadie, both women taking turns to sleep on the mattress on the floor for what sparse rest they could get. The boot hit the wall with a wet slap and left a mark as big as the water stain slowly meandering down the wall from the ceiling leak.

_You’ve lost him. He’s dead, and you could have stopped it. You should have been there. You could have been there. What was stopping you? Dutch’s flattery that you could look after the camp? You’re weak. You lost him, you’ve lost the one thing you loved most in this godforsaken world-_

“Riley?” Came a soft voice from the door. A gentle knock came immediately after, echoing through her mind enough to rouse her from her thoughts. The speaker opened the door slowly, peering in with bloodshot brown eyes to meet her glistening greens.

“Oh, _honey_...” Abigail said, softly. She closed the door behind herself and sat on the mattress beside Riley, winding an arm around her and hugging her close. Riley went willingly, crumbling into the warm lap with her hands tight against her eyes as if that would help stop the flow of tears. She gasped for breath she didn’t know she needed, shoulders shaking as each breath came faster than the last, desperate and gasping. All the while a soothing hand ran through her hair, thick and knotted without her usual care. Slowly Abigail threaded her fingers through the knots, loosened the ache in her skull, whispered soothing words to her.

It took twenty minutes for Riley to stop hyperventilating, and when she did she simply laid in Abigail’s arms, staring at the fallen boot across the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey thanks for reading! 
> 
> I'm sorry if this chapter is a bit shite, I've been suffering with my mental health recently and I'm struggling to write to the level I want to write at. It's a little bit sad, but then again this chapter is mostly angst to begin with. Mostly been creating an emotionally fragile playlist on spotify soooooo,,,,,,
> 
> Enjoy y'all


	29. The Night We Met

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- The night we met by Lord Huron -
> 
> "When the night was full of terrors  
> And your eyes were filled with tears  
> When you had not touched me yet  
> Oh, take me back to the night we met"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur's return from Guarma.

Waves lapped up the side of the boat, caressing the wood with foamy white fingers that spilled over the sides and along the cracks and dents. Saltwater settled on his hands that gripped the sides of the little boat tightly, bare-knuckles white from tension and bruised in places. He shivered as the man in front of him rowed them to shore under the cover of night. Above them stars twinkled, welcoming him home after such a sudden leave of absence, greeting him with their little lights dotted across the black canvas of night sky. The moon blinked down at him as he gazed at her, bloodshot eyes entranced by her beauty. She hung full in the sky, silver and white in such stark contrast to the darkness surrounding her. The moon said nothing, she never did. Not when he lay under the stars as a boy, watching them as his mother and father screamed themselves hoarse. She said nothing when he rode his first horse as a young man, a younger John by his side and his new family riding ahead. The moon said nothing when he lay beside Riley under her light, a light that cast dark shadows over her face that he traced with adoring fingers. She’d said nothing when he washed up on the sandy beaches of Guarma, and nothing the night they’d escaped. He was well used to her silence by now, and had come to think of her as something of a friend. In the back of his mind, Arthur wondered if she was lonely up there by herself, covered by darkness and chased away by the sun. Maybe she was. Maybe she was as lonely as he felt right now. 

The boat pulled up alongside the docks of Van Horne, quietly sliding into a disused space beside an old fishing boat. His friend gave him a silent nod and checked the street before letting Arthur off and making his way back to the ship that had escorted them from hell on Earth. Once he had his feet on muddy land, Arthur took a moment to suck in a deep breath and close his eyes. In the space of nearly a week and a half he’d been stranded on that godforsaken island, clawing like a cat in a sack desperate to leave and return to the place he knew. While America had its problems, there was always something worse. Guarma was worse. There was the heat, unlike anything he’d experienced in the swamps of Lemoyne. There were animals he knew nothing of, insects that bit and ate him like he were a steak on a plate. There were languages he’d never heard before, and men with agendas he couldn’t understand. It had been a true nightmare, something he wasn’t likely to forget any time soon. 

Sighing deeply, Arthur walked slowly onto the main street of Van Horne and surveyed the area. The night was in full force, and some horses were tied up outside of the local bar. He picked one that happened to be the calmest of the bunch, a black and white mare with spots across her back, and hefted himself into her saddle. She barely made a sound as he kicked her into gear and rode. 

For some time he simply let the wind rush across his skin, his hair pushed back and night air caressing his eyelids with every blink. He was exhausted, fatigued, and so damn hungry. He’d lost weight since Guarma. He could feel his own ribs whenever he smoothed out his borrowed shirt, something he was wholly unused to. While he’d never been particularly fat, he always kept himself well-fed. Enough to not cause worry, like his current situation. In the back of his mind, he could already see the look on her face when he returned looking like he did. 

Riley. 

His fingers tightened on the reigns and he urged his horse on faster, mind wandering to thoughts of his partner. Arthur worried for her the entire time he was gone. Had the Pinkertons got them? Had she put up a fight? Was she even alive? So many questions flew through his mind that he was mildly grateful he hardly had time to settle on one before the next came rushing in. He worried for her safety but also for her soul. How hard had this been on her? How worried had she been? In his mind he comforted himself by imagining her taking the reigns, the metaphorical pedestal that Dutch stood upon, to lead the gang to safety. He wanted so very much to believe she was safe and secure, somewhere the Pinkertons would never find her. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t worry for the rest of his family, he absolutely did, but his mind was so tormented by the images of Lenny and Hosea falling at the hands of the law that he couldn’t help but imagine the same fate for the one he loved deeply. His heart ached for his fallen brothers that he didn’t think he would be able to handle it if Riley fell to the same fate. In his heart, he knew that Riley would be safe, and if she was safe then the rest of the family were safe as well. He had to have faith. 

Before he was aware of it Arthur found himself trailing into the old camp at Shady Belle. The sun was beginning to rise over the trees, casting a deep orange light across the grass and muddy pits they’d not long ago called home. No bodies, no signs of struggle, but definitely deep footprints belonging to people that were not his family. Arthur went inside and searched the house. 

All of it was gone, packed up in true Grimshaw fashion to be hauled away the second they’d received the news. Had Charles escaped and warned them? Arthur really, really hoped so. 

It was a slightly yellowed piece of paper that caught his attention just as he was about to leave. The paper was wedged under a stray book, a romance novel. It must have been one of Mary-Beth’s. The page was torn from something, and he recognized the page as one from his own journal. His fingers stiffly undid the note and he let his eyes fall across familiar letters. 

She was safe. 

Caroline, the name he’d helped her pick out to stay undercover if they needed it. Uncle Tacitus, his own fake name, and details of where to find them. She’d done it. She’d managed to get his family to safety. In his chest, Arthur felt a swell of pride, and a small smile settled on his lips that spread as he re-read the letter once more. The sensation felt odd on his lips, but welcome all the same. Lakay. That wasn’t far at all. 

Outside he could hear horses and footsteps, men approaching, so he took the opportunity to sneak out the back door. He saw the Pinkertons before they saw him, and plastered himself against the wall of the house. They spoke to one another, talking about how stupid it was to be checking back in at a house they knew the Van Der Linde’s were not going to be returning to. Arthur waited until they were inside to quickly cut the ropes tying their horses to hitching posts, and urged them to run with a sharp smack to each horses’ ass. He was already riding before the men realized what he had done. He rode hard and fast, making absolutely certain that he was not being followed, before taking the long route to find Lakay. 

It took him another hour to find the new camp that Riley wrote about in her letter. He rode carefully, treading through swampland and apologizing to his poor horse as mud coated her legs. In the distance between some very large swamp trees and overgrown foliage, Arthur could see the twinkling of a fire. He dismounted and guided his new horse by her reigns, walking on sure feet as he approached the people milling around outside. He could see Pearson hacking apart what used to be a rabbit, Abigail sat nearby with some sort of clothing in her lap to repair. Her eyes met his the second he stepped into camp. 

“Arthur! It’s Arthur! Arthur’s back!” Someone was calling, a woman’s voice but not the voice he sought for. Abigail threw herself into his arms and he held onto her with a light chuckle. It felt good to hear her voice, feel her arms around him. “Arthur, you’re alive!” 

“Oh, just about.” Arthur responded, smiling as Pearson clapped him on the shoulder and Sadie rushed out to see what was happening. Soon enough he was being ushered inside, a plate of hot stew shoved into his hands along with a cup of coffee. He thanked all the gods above for this small blessing. While he drank and ate he kept his eyes on his family, doing a mental headcount to make sure they were all there. All aside from the men still yet to return, and the ones they lost along the way. And Riley. 

As if reading his mind, Sadie cut into Herr Strauss’ explanation of how they’d escaped from Shady Belle. “She ain’t here right now. Out huntin’ or somethin’, I ain’t sure if it’s bounty work or what, but she’ll be back before tonight.” 

Giving Sadie a grateful nod, Arthur began to relax into his seat and finish his meal. The gang was abuzz as Micah and Javier slipped in, both having found their new camp just like Arthur had. Maybe they’d found letters at the post office in Van Horne or something, but they were here. Arthur heard all about the way Riley had taken up arms to protect their family. How she, Sadie and Charles had worked together to get everyone to safety and set them up somewhere almost comfortable. He heard about the previous occupants of the shack he sat in, how Trelawney had visited Saint Denis to try and find out what happened to the bodies of their friends. He’d been able to recover them with a bribe to the poor boy posted to bury them, and they had been buried respectfully with Reverend Swanson’s help. And John... Unfortunate John in prison, working for the chain gang. Arthur was surprised they hadn’t hung him yet. Maybe they were hoping to catch the rest of them first and make a show of it. 

After finishing his food and waving off the constant fussing from most of the girls in the camp, Arthur finally convinced them he was well enough to go outside to have a smoke. He stood with Charles, talking over his time on the island, the people he had met and saved. He spoke about the problems that occurred... and how Dutch had acted. He’d murdered that old woman in cold blood, the woman who had only tried to help. A loose end, Dutch had called her. It didn’t sit right. He was midway through explaining how they’d fought on a goddamn tower when he heard the rhythmic thudding of hooves from behind him. He froze, the hair on the back of his neck stood up, and the world seemed to slow down. 

Turning around, cigarette between his lips, Arthur sucked in a sharp breath as ocean eyes met dull green. She was sliding off her horse clumsily, her jaw sharp and her eyes focused. He dropped the cigarette to the muddy ground, turning to meet her midway. They met with hands first, his fingers quick and rough on her wrist as he pulled her close. Her arms wound tightly around his neck as if she were afraid to let go, his arms just as tight on her back and waist. Her hands bunched into fists around his borrowed shirt, her face buried in his shoulder. She was breathing heavily, almost like she’d run from Valentine instead of from her horse. Her hair was messily braided back, and when he finally coaxed her head back up he could see the dark circles below her eyes. She looked haggard, exhausted and frightened; she looked exactly how he felt. With both of his palms enclosed against her cheeks, Arthur swept away the fat tears that fell from thick lashes. He met her lips gently, as if afraid to scare away a deer, and rested his forehead against hers. For one precious moment, he felt the weight of the world lifted from his shoulders like the past two weeks hadn’t happened. He felt lighter than air, better than he’d felt in years. Of course, with all good things, there must come an end. 

“I thought I lost you...” Her voice was so raw it broke something inside him, an aching fissure along his heart that he imagined mimicked hers. All he wanted was to heal her.

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere, Sweetheart. Never again.” His words were rough, but a promise was a promise. He kissed her again and took his time in wiping away her tears with his fingers. His hand curled into the hair at the back of her neck and he cradled her close, swaying in a way he hoped would be comforting as she slowly calmed her breathing against his chest. Her shoulders soon relaxed from their shaking, her breath calm, and he pressed butterfly kisses to her hair until she could stand without his help. Still, he didn’t release contact. He kept a hand on her at all times, either on her back or around her waist, her arm tight around his middle. 

Some minutes later he walked her inside and to the private room Sadie had told him about. He sat her down on the worn mattress and followed soon after. In their clothes they laid against the wall, Riley bunched to his chest and him with a protective arm slung around her. Legs entangled, boots caked in mud still on their feet, he let the tension in his shoulders subside a little. It didn’t take long before he was asleep, comforted and soothed by the gentle thrumming of her heartbeat on the tips of his fingers where they rested on the insides of her wrists. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did someone order feelings? I'm having feelings. 
> 
> Blame my hormone imbalance I guess,,,,,,


	30. Say Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Say something by A Great Big World and Christina Aguilera - 
> 
> "And I am feeling so small  
> It was over my head  
> I know nothing at all"

It was raining heavily outside when silence finally infiltrated the camp, and Riley was drenched to the core. She shivered as she stood up from behind a crate, mud coating her front where she’d hit the ground to avoid the bullets from the Gatling gun Arthur manned. Her cheeks were flush red, hair plastered to her forehead and hat lost to the swamps. Around her the ground was littered with bodies of the Pinkerton Detective Agency, men bleeding from fatal wounds and guns scattered in the dirt. Puddles pooled around her feet with each step she took, Arthur’s old rifle slung across her back as she did a quick headcount to make sure everyone was safe. Water and mud mixed the water black, soaking through old holes in her boots and through to her socks. It was a horrid feeling, but manageable for the time being.

Across from her Sadie was crouched beside the cart holding the big gun, and not ten feet away Bill was slowly rising from his cover behind some crates and barrels. On top of the cart that had rolled in that huge gun, Arthur wobbled, leaning over with his hand firmly over the metal to keep himself upright. Riley trudged over, too exhausted to run, and gripped the sides of the cart. There was no blood that she could see, no obvious injuries, and she found herself releasing a hard breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. He’s fine, just tired is all.

Dutch was talking. He was saying something about time, about moving, about needing something or other. Riley wasn’t listening. When had he come outside? Last she checked it had just been the four of them fighting off the Pinkertons on the outside while the others hid inside. Arthur was climbing down from the cart and leaned back against it with all the strength he could muster. Guarma must have done a number on him because she’d not seen him this bad since the day he’d escaped Colm O’Driscol. She followed the wood of the cart around to where Arthur leaned and pressed her hand into his. Slick with rain and sweat and mud, she clutched at his fingers until he gave her a short nod. He was alright, he just needed to catch his breath through sharp sounding coughs.

“What about John, Dutch?” Abigail was asking from somewhere behind her, a voice that finally dragged Riley’s eyes away from Arthur’s face. She was asking about John again, trapped as he was on that island jail. Riley knew it was urgent, and she also worried for how little Dutch seemed to prioritize it. It struck her as odd that he was almost dismissive of helping out one of the men he truly called his son. True, they needed to get out of here after that fiasco with the Pinkertons but... how long would they wait until they hung him? If it were Arthur... Well. Riley wouldn’t be asking Dutch for help, that’s for sure. She’d have gone herself.

“ _Please_... I’m begging you. It would break my- The _boy’s_ heart...” Abigail was begging now, Sadie and Riley either side of her. She was asking Arthur, tears in her eyes, hands gripping her own arms tight. How could they say no?

“Of course.” Sadie had said, and that seemed to placate Abigail enough for the moment. Sadie was already making plans, whispering to both her and Arthur about where to meet up in a few days time. While they knew John was a priority... So was recovery. Arthur wasn’t looking so good. His eyes were bloodshot and exhaustion had his skin pinched in his cheeks. Riley rubbed a worried thumb across the back of his hand, the adrenaline from the fight soaking into her bones to become something like anxious energy.

It had only been about an hour ago that she awoke in Arthur’s arms, groggy and gross feeling but lighter than she’d felt that past week. Dutch had returned, finally, and the gang was abuzz with activity. Coffee was passed around, candles were lit, and questions were asked. Of course, Micah had to put his two cents in but was quickly shut down by Abigail who seemed sick of his shit. Good on her. It had been good to see Dutch, a final puzzle piece that meant she no longer held responsibility for the group. Hell, she’d even had a thank you from the man himself, and a clap on the shoulder for her efforts. It did have its effect, she did feel a swell of pride somewhere in her chest.

Now though, Riley had an arm around Arthur’s shoulders as he slowly stood up straight. He was trying to move away, towards one of the bodies on the ground closest to them. The man lay face down in the mud, sinking slowly into the swamp with half his shoulder blown off by the Gatling gun. Arthur clearly wanted to check the body for valuables or maybe help Charles and Bill in cleaning up around the place. She cottoned on to what he planned to do and gave a disapproving hum. When he turned to look at her questioningly Riley sighed and cupped his cheek in her palm.

“Look... I’m gonna take you into town and we’re gonna get cleaned up. Get some medicine in you for that cough, see if we can get you feelin’ better, huh? I ain’t takin’ no for an answer.” Riley spoke softly, rubbing a smudge of dirt from his cheek with her thumb. She could see the fight in his eyes as he tried to come up with the words to argue, but it died as soon as it came. Arthur nodded, and Riley stood on her toes to kiss him quickly.

It didn’t take much convincing on her part for Dutch to let them go into town. It was obvious how Arthur looked, the least she could do right now was find him a hot bath and a meal. The poor man had been through something horrible, something he hadn’t yet told her about, and she wanted nothing more than to make him feel a little bit normal now it was over. Thankfully Arthur seemed too tired to argue much more than asking where his satchel was. Riley unhooked it off her own shoulder and sheepishly handed it over, and while she’d kept it close for her own comfort she knew Arthur appreciated the sentiment of keeping it safe.

They were in a dangerous situation with Pinkertons at every twist and turn in the road. Hell, Riley wasn’t even sure if taking him into town was such a good idea right now what with the recent fight but... But he looked so run down, so tired, so exhausted, that she had to give him something. Maybe the beard on his face and the length of his hair would hide his identity, but Riley made sure to get him to change his clothes into something less dirty before they left. She’d also convinced him to ride using the new mare he’d borrowed rather than Gypsy. As good a horse as she was, times were desperate and any indication that he was a wanted man could mean disaster.

They rode out of camp with a quiet farewell and spent a few minutes making their way to a path that was rarely used to leave Saint Denis. They travelled for a few hours until they reached Annesburg, a place with few people and fewer shops. She was quick to hitch up her horse outside of the very small hotel and took herself inside to book a bath for them both. Thankfully it was drawn quickly and Riley was pulling a lagging Arthur by the arm into the room.

The door shut firmly in its hole, and Riley clicked the lock. When she turned around Arthur was stood with his hands on his hips, back to the door and subsequently Riley. She didn’t speak as she came up behind him and wound her arms through his to hug his back to her chest. She felt the tension settle in his shoulders, and pressed a gentle kiss between his shoulder blades just to remind him she was there.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, kay?” Riley hummed, taking off her own coat and rolling up her sleeves. The next few moments were filled with mumbled apologies and gentle words as she helped him undress, tossing his dirty clothes into a pile. They’d both brought in some fresh clothing from their horses, but Riley wasn’t sure Arthur’s clothes were salvageable anyway. Once he was down to his jeans she let him deal with that himself. Across the room she spotted a table of bottles and tins, all kinds of containers that when she opened them held different scents and perfumes. There were even some tins of balms and salts, all nice smelling in their own way. There was a nice tub of something viscous that smelled vaguely of chamomile tea, and when she touched it she was pleased to find it was liquid soap.

Returning to the tub, Riley was encouraged to find Arthur slowly lowering himself into the steaming water. She sat behind him on a small stool and tipped the bottle up into his thick hair, massaging it under the tips of her fingers until suds began to form. Arthur seemed to melt under her touch, a feeling she was so pleased to give him, and he sank further into the water. She spent some time working the lather through his hair before gently rinsing it out with a jug of water, urging Arthur to sit forwards so it didn’t splash over the sides. When she was finished with his hair she helped with his body, sudsing up a washcloth to run over his arms, chest and back. Eventually, there wasn’t much more she could do, and instead, she sat with her hands on the edge of the tub and her chin resting atop them. She watched Arthur clean himself under the water, searching his torso for any signs of injury she could take care of. Riley wasn’t used to caring for sick or injured people, but she hoped she was helping a little bit.

“Your beard’s gotten real long...” She commented, reaching out absently to smooth out the roughness on his cheeks. Maybe it was the whole being absent for such a long time thing, but Riley just wanted to be close. She wanted to touch.

Arthur smiled, catching her hand so that he could press gentle kisses to her inner wrist. “I’ll shave when I’m outta the tub, s’been itchin’ like hell.”

The humour was returning to him now and Riley couldn’t be happier. She smiled as Arthur sat up in the tub and stretched, joints popping and cracking with his effort to pull himself up out of the warm water. It was muddied and grey, not exactly the kind of water she wanted to be bathing in but they didn’t have much money for a fresh tub. She’d have to make it quick.

Within minutes Riley was stripped down and in the warm tub, lathering that same chamomile soap over the rag and up and down her arms. Arthur, true to his word, had taken up the old razor by the basin in the corner of the room and was carefully removing weeks worth of scruff from his face. She could see him sneaking glances her way when he thought she wasn’t looking. It was nice to see his eyes in the mirror, still so concerned that she may disappear like a mirage. How many times had he seen her on that island thinking she was there when actually he was just thirsty or starving. Shaking the thoughts away, Riley focused on washing her hair free of grime before exiting the tub. Arthur was there to greet her with a large towel, wrapping her up in it before the chill of the air could assault her skin. She hummed as he began to dry her down, now so much better smelling that Riley couldn’t help but bury her face into his shoulder, rising up on her tiptoes to do so.

“Thought I was lookin’ after you?” She said, smirking into his shoulder when she felt gentle fingers thread through her hair. Arthur rumbled a gentle laugh, and Riley looked up at him as he spoke.

“You always look after me, Darlin’. I gotta repay the favour somewhere along the line.” He said it so simply that Riley couldn’t help the flush in her cheeks rising with the heat in her blood.

“You big _soft_ teddy bear of a man, Arthur Morgan.” The smile that appeared on his features was worth the teasing, and Riley reached up her hand to wipe away a small dab of soap from his face. He was mostly clean-shaven now, as clean as one could get with an old razor and a small mirror. She ran the tips of her fingers down his jawline slowly, eyes tracking the movements as she focused on the sensations.

“Let’s go get somethin’ t’eat and then go sleep in a real bed, huh?” Arthur rumbled his agreement, and both of them dressed a little reluctantly to find the saloon and get something warm inside of their stomachs.

It was almost night time when Riley and Arthur found a room in the hotel they’d bathed at earlier. They were warm and fed, belly’s full of mutton and beer. Arthur looked better after a hardy meal and some good alcohol, the colour was returning to his cheeks and his eyes looked clearer. Riley couldn’t help but feel relieved he hadn’t picked up some kind of tropical illness that they wouldn’t be able to treat back here in America. She felt her spirits rising each time she looked at him and found him already staring at her with the most love-struck expression she’d ever seen on a man.

The stumbled up to their bedroom after being given the key for the night, and as soon as the door was closed Riley was falling onto the bed on her back and kicking off her shoes haphazardly. They fell off her feet and were kicked in different directions in the room, closely followed by her belt and her jeans. When she turned around Arthur was stood at the foot of the bed, his hands in his pockets and a sheepish smile on his lips. He was just watching her, eyes scanning her body and taking in her form as she lay back against the pillows. He had a feint blush on his cheeks that Riley wanted to taste, and she realised with a pleased hum that she could do exactly that.

Sitting up on her knees, Riley crawled to the foot of the bed to sit on her knees in front of him. She leaned up and began unbuttoning his shirt, pleased to find his hands following the line of her elbows up to her shoulders. As soon as her hands reached warm skin she smiled, but there was something odd about the way Arthur was looking at her.

“What is it?” She asked, voice soft and slowly filling with worry. Arthur shook his head, giving her a weak smile before resting his forehead against hers.

“Nothin’... I just missed lookin’ atchu. I... missed you so much it hurt.” The admission made something deep inside her chest squeeze, so Riley simply shut her eyes and nuzzled her nose against his.

“I’m here now.” She whispered, fingers cradling his cheeks as his thumbs rubbed circles around her shoulders.

“You’re here now.” He repeated as if to remind himself this was not a dream.

“I love you. I’m real glad you’re home. I can’t think what I’d do without you.” Arthur hummed softly at her words, one of his hands coming up to thread through the hair that fell across her cheek.

“I love you too. So much it hurts, Sweetheart. There ain’t no quittin’ you.” His voice cracked a little as he spoke so Riley chose to silence him. She kissed him softly, just a flutter of lips that fell into an urgent and more demanding press the second he sucked in a sharp breath. They fell back into the bed soon after, divulging each other of items of clothing until finally their skin connected with nothing in between them.

No more barriers, no distance, only the feeling of warm skin on skin. Riley laid back and hitcher her knees up around his waist so that Arthur could settle between them comfortably. She trailed her fingers across his ribs, cautious of bruises and scratches he may have sustained while away. While her fingers were light and gentle her kisses were hard and desperate, all tongue and teeth as each of them fought their way inside each other's mouths.

It was with a hitch in his breath she felt his cock swell against her pelvis, so she let her hips rut upwards to encourage him to do as he pleased. And he did, thankfully. He let his hips rotate against hers, rubbing his cock between the crease of her thigh and groin. Riley’s fingers found their way to his hair, shorter now after a man in the saloon had cut his hair back to a suitable length. It was still long enough to hold between her fingers and tug, just enough to make him gasp wantonly into her mouth. Riley swallowed the sound and hitched her leg higher, encouraging him, tempting him, begging him with her body.

He knew what she wanted, he always did. Slowly he shifted his position until he was lining himself up, slowly pushing inside of her until his hips sat flush against hers. He took a moment to breathe a shuddering breath before burying his face into her neck. He breathed in great lungs full of air, hands balling into fists in the bedsheets as he rocked absently into her. Riley whispered soft praises, encouraging him to build his pace, take what he needed. Her fingers alternated between tugging gently and soothing his hair, nails scratching ever so slightly at his scalp. It didn’t take much for him to build himself up, his breath came quicker and his muscles tensed, and soon she felt him releasing hot and quick inside of her. She didn’t mind, not at all. Not when he sank into her looking so relaxed and tired. It felt good to see him like that, so boneless and relaxed, clean and full, as content as a man could be in the pillows of the bed. She cuddled herself into his arm as he caught his breath, laying gentle kisses on his forearm and shoulder while he caught his breath.

After a while, he rolled onto his side, bunched Riley to his chest, and found her ear with his lips.

“Let me...” He spoke softly, but his voice was tired and Riley shook her head gently.

“Maybe tomorrow. Just rest, okay? Just rest.”

It was all the permission he needed before he was relaxing in her arms, his face pressed just above her chest and his arms around her waist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't @ me ok


	31. I'll be good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- I'll be good by Jaymes Young -
> 
> "My past has tasted bitter  
> For years now  
> So I wield an iron fist  
> Grace is just weakness  
> Or so I've been told  
> I've been cold, I've been merciless  
> But the blood on my hands scares me to death  
> Maybe I'm waking up today"

_My lord what a goddamn mess. Everything. The bank job we planned so hard was a goddamn SET UP._

_Hosea got himself killed. Lenny got shot in the head. Marston got himself arrested and is awaiting trial. We fled, leapt on a ship, sailed into a storm, the ship sank._

_Whole thing like a dream, like a fool’s nightmare. I survived that, and being lost as sea and got washed ashore on an island called Guarma._

_Whatever Tahiti is like, I hope it ain’t nothing like Guarma. Some nasty bastard named FUSSAR had the people bu the throat and we ended up in a fight with a goddamn army. Javier nearly died. I nearly got killed._

_Met some real decent folk, brave folk in a land of hell. We got a boat out of there, just about, after some real nasty fighting. Don’t think I met many folk deserved killing more than that piece of shit FUSSAR._

_Upon returning found the folk again, at least them as ain’t dead. But within a few hours, the Pinkertons had found all of us. Old Agent Milton wants us dead and yet somehow we survived and are now planning another escape._

_Not sure what happens next. Whole thing has been hard on all of us. Most of all Dutch, who seems half crazed by all we gone through._

_One small grace is that Riley was alive and waiting for me when I came home. We took a short break away from the gang. I ain’t been so well since I came back from Guarma and I feel like some rest and food has done me good. Feeling better already._

Arthur sat with his back against the wall the bed was pushed up against, a pen in his hand and his journal open in his naked lap. He’d written so much in the past hour that his wrist ached, but a few rolls of his hand helped to ease the tingle he felt in the tips of his fingers. With a huge sigh, Arthur let his head thump back onto the wall, causing a light dusting of plaster and peeling paint to drift in motes through the air. He followed them with his eyes, breathing slowly, sucking in dust with each breath until his chest tightened and he found himself coughing into his closed fist. After a few moments of trying to stifle the sounds he stopped, eyes watching Riley as she lay beside him still in the depths of sleep. Pulling his fist back he frowned at the red splatter on his skin and wiped the back of his hand over his lips to find more blood resting there.

Arthur grimaced, licked his lips to clean it away, and promptly wiped his hand on the bedsheets. It had started in Guarma, the coughing up blood. He had half a mind to wonder if it was some sort of tropical disease, but the other half of his mind was begging him to ignore it and pretend nothing was happening. That part won, as always. It could wait, it wasn’t important.

Riley stirred, her arms around her head and her hair blessing her skin like a halo of darkness. Arthur smiled as her brows pulled together, a small indicator that she was going to wake up soon. With a small hum, he leaned forwards, stroked aside a few strands of hair from her cheek, and touched her bottom lip with his thumb. It bounced under his gentle touch, so he trailed his fingers down as he slowly moved to hover over her. She shuffled again, breathing more consistently now, on the precipice of wakefulness.

With a gentle kiss to her clavicle, Arthur roamed down her body under the sheets, crawling back until his hands were settled on her hips and face was buried between two plush thighs. Above him, back outside of the sheets, Riley gave a quiet sound that went _right_ to his cock. It was like a whine, almost, so soft and gentle it was all he needed to encourage him to make her do it again. His tongue found the wet space between her folds, and as he delved deeper he was rewarded with a gentle squeeze of her thighs around his head. Her toes curled in the sheets, her hands moved down from where they had previously rested on the pillows, and slowly the sheet was pulled away from where he hid.

Looking thoroughly pleased and still half asleep, Riley peered down at him just as he managed to work his index finger inside her alongside his tongue. He locked eyes with her as he moved it gently, stroking the insides of her flesh with the tip of his finger, _tasting_ her with the tip of his tongue. Her hips pressed into the bed and her back arched, a delicious sight that had him rumbling deep in his chest. He watched her, transfixed, hardly able to keep his eyes closed for more than a split second as she writhed above him. Her mouth fell open, her pink tongue darting out to wet her lips. One of her hands had come down to twine her fingers in his hair and tugged sharply when he twisted his finger _just so_ and pressed the flat of his tongue _right_ where she needed it most. It was the best reward he could ask for. Her eyes were closed now, dark lashes casting shadows down blush red cheeks. Arthur wished he could take a picture.

Slowly he closed his lips around her clit and _sucked_ , just a light pressure with a very gentle hint of teeth, and when he pulled off with a _lude_ slurp he felt the shivers begin in her thighs. He did it again, increasing the pressure, sucking just right, breath hot on her already overheated skin. She came with his mouth around her, coaxing her through it as a pleased groan finally radiated from her throat. He didn’t let go just yet, instead lapping gently at her until she tugged at his hair again to bring him up to her lips. She still didn’t relent her grip on his hair, even as her thighs came up around his waist and locked at his lower back. Arthur hovered over her, kissing her thoroughly, giving as good as he got as her tongue explored his mouth like it had never been there before. She tasted like sleep and a mixture of her release and something charged with lightning. Arthur pressed deeper, and until now had ignored his neglected cock to focus solely on her pleasure. He was about to pull back to ask if he could fuck her when the room suddenly shifted sideways.

He was on his back when he opened his eyes, staring up at Riley as she slid into his lap. There was an almost _feral_ look in her eye as she slid down his body, peppering kisses across his chest, paying particular attention to his scars.

“Arthur,” She purred, nipping lightly at the skin before soothing it with a wet kiss. “Tell me what you like...?”

The question caught him off guard, and as he raised an arm to pillow his head so he could look at her properly she was raising up to sit comfortably on his cock. It sat trapped between her folds and his own stomach, leaking from the tip where it peeked from the foreskin. She was rocking back and forth, so slow it was like she wasn’t moving. Arthur swore, and felt his eyes flutter closed.

They abruptly flew open when he felt her stop completely still, her hands pressed against his chest.

“F-fuck...” He whispered, his free hand coming down to sit on her bare thigh. “Whatchu mean? What I _like_?” He asked, voice thick.

“In bed. With me. Things you like for a woman to do, thing’s you want me to do... Dreams you have but won’t ask for...” She had a little smile on her lips as she spoke, and her hips were moving again, just a gentle twitch causing a delicious friction. Arthur groaned into the flesh of his own arm.

“Shit... Shit, Riley- I don’t know, I don’t- _This_. I like this.” He was losing himself to the feeling, eyes closed tight.

“ ** _ **Good**_**.” Riley breathed, voice hushed. She dropped forwards, changing the angle to apply more pressure to the head of his cock, rocking it between her thighs. Arthur choked back a moan. “Arthur, open your eyes. _Watch me_.”

He did as he was asked, ocean blue’s locking onto dull greens and holding that stare. His breath was coming quicker, his thighs twitching with the urge to thrust upwards barely being held back. He stretched out his neck, tilting his chin upwards, but kept her gaze.

“I like it when ya touch me all soft and gentle like you do... I like when you got yer hands in my _hair_. Feels- _fuck, that’s nice_ \- Feels good when you pull my hair...” His reward was a firmer press of her hips, a change of speed, her fingers roaming across his chest and the tickling sensation of nails dragging down his sides. One of her hands came up to settle against his throat. Not squeezing, not restricting, just holding a light pressure to remind him she was right there. He sucked in a breath so quick she stilled, but the fire in his eyes was enough to let her know not to stop.

“I like your pretty lips on mine. On my neck, my chest, my stomach. I love your lips on my cock, you take me _so well_.” He’d started now and there was no way to stop, it was like she’d torn down a flood gate with sheer willpower alone, broken through layers of defence he’d held up since Mary. “I love it when I’m inside you, I swear I can feel your heart beatin’ like a hummin’ bird where we’re together, it’s the most incredible feelin’...”

She shifted on her knees above him and before he could whine at the loss of contact she was sinking down on his length with a soft sigh. A tight heat encompassed him, enclosing his cock, wrapping him up in warmth and softness. He could feel her heartbeat through his own cock, pulsing rapidly much like his own was. It was a delicious sensation, one he’d never grow tired of. He swallowed thickly, certain she could feel the way his throat rose and fell on her palm. Above him Riley was panting lightly, lips parted, hair spilling around her shoulders and down her chest. His free hand had been clutched around her thigh, definitely leaving bruises, but as he relaxed his grip Riley’s hand came to slap it back into place. He gave her what she wanted, large finger-shaped bruises on the outsides of her thigh.

She sank down until her hips were flush against his and paused, letting herself get used to the sensation as Arthur let his eyes flutter shut to enjoy the feeling. When they opened again a few moments later he found Riley staring down at him, waiting for him to watch her before she moved again. Her thumb was moving in slow circles against his jaw, her other hand now pressed flat against his chest, nails digging lightly into his skin. She rose up on her knees and dropped back down just as slow as she’d been before, taking him to the tip before slowly rocking back down to the root. His breath came quicker, his blood hot in his veins, pounding in his ears as she ground down in smooth motions. It was all he could do not to throw her onto the bed and take her how he wanted, hard and fast, chasing a goal, chasing his own pleasure he so desperately craved.

“What do _you_ want?” He asked, voice higher than normal, a sure sign he was reaching his limit. Riley simply smiled and looked down at him through hooded eyes.

“I want you to hold me.” She purred, a simple request he was all too eager to satiate. As quick as he could he was sitting up, pulling her chest flush to his own, thighs flat on the bed as he pressed her closer. One arm wound around her waist, holding her tight, the other up across her back to grip at her shoulder. With the new position, she wound her arms around his shoulders, pulling him so close that he could rest his forehead against her chest. Breath turned to liquid between them, damp settling on their skin like the morning dew on the grasses outside. Arthur rocked up into her, pulling her up and down until his arms flexed and strained, until her nails dug into the meat of his back, until he felt his own breath becoming as erratic as his heartbeat was.

He came on the next thrust up, hips stilling for a second before pumping slowly, working himself through it, spilling into her hot and fast. Above him Riley crooned softly, peppering kisses to his hair, his temples, his closed eyelids. He felt the gentle warmth of her breath fan over his cheeks and hummed, tilting his head with a simple request. She granted him a kiss so soft and tender he could have cried, tongues rutting lazily against each other as his pulse began to return to normal. When it did they parted, and Arthur cleaned himself up with a damp rag before getting dressed.

They hardly spoke that morning but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. It was nice not to have to speak, to not have to filter through the mindless thoughts that raced in his head. He was still dressing when Riley wandered over to the small window to lean against it and breathe in the fresh air. She looked beautiful like that, framed by the pale light of the morning slowly edging over the ocean, her hair tied back in its usual braid. Van Horne was a shitty town but it did have its perks if it meant waking up to this every day.

Slowly, Arthur moved to wind one arm around Riley’s middle, his chest pressed to her back. He kissed a gentle line up from her shoulder to her ear, nuzzling behind it with the gentleness one might find in an affectionate dog. She smiled, and he heard a light laugh in her voice. With a small smile, he shifted, pulling her hair back carefully.

“I gotchu somethin’...” He said slowly, a flush creeping up his own neck and into his cheeks. Riley hummed, leaning back into him easily. With a deep breath, he took her left hand and slid a ring onto her finger, his chin settling on her shoulder so he could see the way it sat almost perfectly on her finger. It had been a persistent weight in his pocket ever since he’d received that letter from Mary returning it to him. For years he thought she’d sold it, or her father had found it and sold it at least. Thankfully not, she did have a heart after all. She’d returned his mother’s ring to him and now, finally, he could confidently give it to the woman he loved. He felt the sharp intake of her breath against his chest, the tension in her shoulders, and just as he was about to apologize and take it back she spun around in his arms and threw herself into his embrace.

“Are you- is this- _Arthur Morgan_ , are you askin’ me to marry you?” Riley asked, voice high and excited. When she pulled back she was beaming, eyes bright and a smile to boot.

“Well, that was the plan. I can do it all official if you like, hold on-” With some difficultly, he disentangled himself from Riley’s arms, stepped back once, and sank to his knee with a small grunt. He held her hands between his own, enclosing them together. She wasn’t crying, she was _grinning_ ear to ear like the cat who got the cream. There was something like fire in her eyes and Arthur felt any residue of doubt evaporate from his very core.

“Ma’am. I’m on my knee t’ask you if you would spend the rest of yer days with me. Make a life somewhere, be free, _really free._ Miss Riley Jameson... Would you do me the incredible honour of becomin’ my wife-” Before he could even finish Riley was in his arms sending him almost spiralling backwards onto his ass. He caught her in a tight embrace, basking in the attention as she smothered his face in kisses. With one final, fierce kiss to his mouth that he returned eagerly, Riley pulled back to thread both her hands through his hair.

“God damn, Arthur, _of course_. Of course I will. Of course, of course, of course...” She trailed off into muffled sounds as she kissed at his cheeks, jaw and mouth. It took Arthur a whole minute to convince her to let him go, and a promise of letting her have him in all his entirety come their wedding night. They had things to plan, discussions to have, and friends to save, first.

What Arthur was pleased to see was his family waiting for them not too far outside of Van Horne. They’d been travelling most of the night by the looks of their tired faces, but curious eyes were already on Riley’s finger when they joined them. It was all claps on his back and the promise of beer and whiskey when they found the new camp after that. Charles, Bill and Javier teased him mercilessly over it, the girls squealing about him finally being made an honest man if there was any sense in the word left. Even Uncle seemed to rise from a drunken stupor long enough to congratulate the pair, before promptly finishing the last dregs of whiskey from the bottle in his hand. He felt lighter than he’d felt in a long while, surrounded by family and friends. He’d only wished Hosea was alive to congratulate him. He’d have to go and tell the man in person, find where they buried him and give him the good news.

Hell, maybe the old man was looking down on him now and weeping tears of joy that seemed to be absent from Dutch’s eyes when he’d told him the news.

The new camp took the better part of two days to set up. They’d cleared out some deep cave by Butchers Creek that was once inhabited by disgusting inbred boys that fought like feral dogs. Setting up didn’t take too long after they’d been cleared out, and Arthur stayed for the night before deciding to find Sadie in Saint Denis. He’d made Abigail a promise, after all. He had to go save his brother from the downright shit heap he’d gotten himself stuck in. Breaking a man out of a town jail was one thing, but a whole island prison? Arthur had his work cut out for him.

As he was saddling up his old mare, Arthur coughed into a scrap of cloth that he tucked back into his pocket without checking, once again ignoring that voice in the back of his head that was insisting something was not right with his body. He hadn’t felt right since Guarma, weeks on an island without proper food or sleep surely would take its toll on any man but... to this extreme? Worried, Arthur rode out of the new camp leaving his fiance behind, and a singular goal in mind to find John, bring him home, and then to start his new life away from all this madness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guessed it, Arthur has TB. I don't remember saying this was going to be a happy fic. I have a story to tell and I hope you love it as much as I do, honestly. There may be something happening that you don't expect. 
> 
> Thank you to those who have stuck by me since the beginning. Like I said a few chapters again, this is no longer being beta read so any mistakes please let me know I really want to keep it professionally written. 
> 
> Thank you again, loves. 
> 
> -Your angst king


	32. Toxic Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I deserve to be alright  
> I deserve to sleep at night  
> I'm my closest friend, I remind myself again  
> Better treat her well, 'cause she's with me 'til the end
> 
> Toxic Thoughts - Faith Marie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies! I'm sorry i've been gone so long, I honestly lost the motivation to write and my ADHD found a new thing to be interested in so this fic did suffer. 
> 
> But I want to finish something so desperately, so I started this back up. Excuse the shitty writing, it's been like 5 months and I forgot how to write lol. 
> 
> Anyway this chapter is garbage, I'm just trying to get myself back into the rhythm of things again. I just wanted to post something for you guys to let you know I'm still trying.

It’s been one hell of a ride, Riley thought as she skinned the deer Charles had brought home for dinner. She was methodical in her skinning, taking care to keep as much meat on the skinny thing as she possibly could. There weren’t much pickings in these areas. Arthur had been gone for a week and a half now, and Riley did feel the sense of excitement fading to make way for anxious thoughts that were slowly convincing her he was dead. Gone again, gone again, gone again.

No.

Working.

Riley hadn’t noticed her hand was not longer moving the knife under the pelt of the deer when Charles came to take a knee beside her. Her eyes were glossy, faded as he took the knife from her hands and dragged the deer carcass toward himself.

“You’re in the clouds.” He commented, finishing up where Riley had started. She looked down at her hands, red with blood and covered in fur and gristle. She dunked them in the water bucket beside her and washed them clean.

“I guess.” She responded, focusing on trying to pick the dried blood from under her fingernails. “Been a while... was expectin’ Arthur back by now.”

For the last month the gang had been tense as all hell. Dutch was obsessed with the idea of there being a rat among the group, something Riley was certain of but she wasn’t about to go around naming names for the sake of keeping her own skin on her body. Miss Grimshaw was damn near-violent with her orders, Mary-Beth was too quiet, and Jack had hardly spoken a word since his pa came home.

The night Arthur returned with Sadie, John in tow, Dutch had blown up like a gallon of oil at all three of them. Breaking trust, orders, lying, that whole deal. But John was alive, and safe, and back with his family so what did it matter? To Dutch... Everything. And now here they were, battered and bruised, beaten and bloody, ruined by the world and its progression into westernization. The gang, half in tatters, losing members by the day, was on its last legs.

Hell, a few days after John had been busted from prison, Riley witnessed something terrifying within Arthur. He’d been avoiding her recently, off on missions for the Native American people, denying her when she asked to go with him. It was almost like they weren’t engaged anymore. Ever since he came back with John something had just... changed. Something ain’t right, and it was worming its way through Riley’s chest in a fit of worry. She’d watched him come in on his horse and seek out one particular member of the group. Herr Strauss. Arthur hadn’t even stopped to hitch his horse as he dragged the man by the collar out of the camp, throwing him toward his own horse and ordering him to leave. Riley had been in the middle of chopping firewood, confused and a little frightened of the situation. Whatever Strauss had done... she knew he’d deserved it. That loan shark always did have a dark side, but to have done something so bad as to throw him out of the gang?

When she’d tried to talk to him about it, Arthur had mumbled some excuse about not wanting to talk about it. He’d gone to his own tent, closed the flap, and left extremely early the next morning. Riley shared a tent with Mary-beth that night, confused and unhappy.

Charles had finished with the deer, and any attempts to talk her out of her own mind. It was clear she wasn’t interested in talking, so he washed himself up and went to prepare dinner. Pearson left three days ago, along with Tilly. Pearson was not a good cook but... at least he knew how to cook.

There was so much Arthur was doing that she had no idea about, so many secrets he was suddenly keeping. It broke her heart to think she’d done something wrong, so when he finally rode into camp looking like death warmed up she knew she had to confront him.

Arthur was sagging in his saddle, shoulders hunched against the rain that hammered down like God’s wrath. He hitched up next to a grey and black horse named Buckshot and instantly made for his tent. Riley was sat waiting for him on a tree stump nearby, and as soon as he walked past her she was up on her feet to grab at his arm.

“Wait- Arthur!” She said, forcing her voice to be stern. Rain trickled down the back of her neck and into her shirt. She’d forgotten her hat somewhere along the way. Arthur turned as she grabbed at his arm and paused, looking her up and down for a moment. There was something in his eyes she couldn’t place, a feeling that made her sick to think about.

“We need to talk. Would you come with me?” Riley asked, nodding towards the cave. It was dry and relatively warmer than being outside in the open. Plus, there were candles and it was quiet. Most of the camp were either asleep, or out in town, Micah’s new... friends, included.

With a nod, Arthur followed Riley into the cave. He had his hands in his pockets, his hat hung low over his face, and that same hunched-over posture that made her think he was wounded. Once they’d walked for about a minute to ensure their privacy, Riley turned for a nearby oil lamp and sat herself down on one of the old wooden boxes. Arthur sat beside her, and she could hear his breathing was laboured. He sounded like he’d just climbed a mountain, and it had only been a short walk. His face was mostly hidden by his hat, so she leaned to try and get a better look at his face but he shifted away. Losing her patience a little, Riley snatched the hat from his head and dropped it to the ground, a gasp on her lips.

Arthur was pale. He’d always had a nicely tanned tone to him, he always looked well-fed and strong, but he was different. His face was gaunt, his eyes bloodshot, and there were dark circles under his eyes that hung lower than she’d ever seen. He looked half-dead, and a cold dread rained over her, far more chilling than the downpour outside.

Aside from looking a little irritated, Arthur didn’t say much. He cleared his throat and it looked like it hurt, so Riley leaned forwards to put her hand on his cheek.

“Oh, Arthur...” She whispered, voice so quiet it could hardly be heard over the din of the rain outside. “Talk t’me... please, for the love of god, just talk to me...”

There was pain in that expression he gave her, and Riley realized what that look in his eyes had been when he’d caught him unaware earlier. Fear. Arthur was scared and sick, and not telling her what was happening and she didn’t know whether to be mad or scared or to pack their bags and run for the hills. It took a moment for Arthur to lean into her touch but when he did, he let out a long sigh of relief. He’d been denying himself this. But why?

Arthur told her why.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, captain, let's make a deal  
> Where we both say the things that we both really feel  
> I feel scared and I'm starting to sink  
> And I only sink deeper the deeper I think  
> Oh, captain, make up your mind  
> Before the salt burns your eyes and you run out of time  
> 'Cause you're popping the cork  
> You get lost in your brain  
> And you lose touch with all the things that made you feel sane
> 
> Ship in a bottle - Steffan Argus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I'm on a writing kick, so we might just finish this fic tonight lads

_The hardest thing a man can do is tell his loved one’s he’s going to die._

_I had to do that today. I told Riley about the TB, and after I told her I told Dutch. I told the whole gang, or what’s left of them anyway. Dutch was... predictable, considering his recent behaviour. He faked being concerned, but there was this look in his eyes that scared me half to death. Made me think he was happy this had happened to me._

_John took it hard. He’s been chopping wood for three hours now, and plans on going hunting later. I guess he’s just mad at the world._

_Charles, Javier and the rest were pretty sad. Normal reactions, I guess. But they don’t know the half of it really._

_Riley does. I told her everything. I apologized for being a fool yet again, for keeping things from her and for working myself to the bone. I apologized for being stubborn and stupid. We had a long talk, the sun was up by the time we was finished. I regret not telling her sooner._

_But there ain’t a lot I can do about that now except try to redeem my crappy life in some way or another. I need to make it right. Them things I did when I was young, I can’t take them back, but I can try and do good in the meantime._

_I have to at least try._

When Arthur woke up in camp a few mornings later, Riley wasn’t by his side. It was hard sleeping on one cot, but somehow they made it work most nights. Sometimes he’d wake up to find her on the chair, sat slouched with her hat covering her face and her arms crossed. In the few seconds before he really woke up he sometimes imagined what it would be like if they had run away when they had the chance.

Would he be waking up to the smell of fresh-baked bread now? To a hot bowl of oats and a shiny apple? Would he have a little cabin somewhere in the woods, their own little homestead? Would it be everything he had convinced himself for years he didn’t deserve?

But then he wakes up, and his eyes roam the dismal camp to count the heads. After last night, it was no wonder there were two less than before. Karen and Mary-Beth were gone.

No wonder after what Dutch did to Molly only two nights ago.

While in the process of sitting up, Arthur felt his stomach lurch and the ragged metal that was his throat close up tight. He coughed until red stained his hands and blanket, then used the fabric to wipe himself clean and throw his legs over the cot to find his boots. When he was done putting them on he looked up to find a glass of water held in his direction. Must have woke Riley up with all the noise.

“Here,” She said, putting the glass in his hands. “Drink up, I put some honey in there, it should help.”

Her voice was thick with sleep, and her eyes were dark. There was an open book on the table beside their bed, and from the pictures, he knew it was one of the medical textbooks she’d picked up from the roaming doctor in town.

Riley had taken Arthur’s diagnosis in a completely different direction than what he’d expected. There was no anger, no fear, no tears. Nothing except... determination, maybe? The day after their talk she’d rode into town and bought out the entire medical shop. She’d returned with saddles of medicines, stuff he’d never even seen before and some stuff that he knew was expensive. After berating her for spending all her money, he’d been lectured on the importance of keeping their supply level high in case of emergency. Arthur wasn’t that much of a fool, he knew she was looking for a cure. There wasn’t one, the doctor in Saint Denis had told him so that day he collapsed into the man’s chair. There was nothing to do but get his affairs in order, which was exactly what he was trying to do.

Now, whenever he left to take care of those affairs, Riley would make sure to ride with him a short way, under the pretence of going into town. Maybe she did go into town after, he didn’t know, but the look she’d give him when they parted ways was a puzzling one. Her jaw would set, her eyes would turn to steel, and she’d stare at him for a few seconds before turning and riding away as fast as possible. It was strange but... at least it wasn’t obsessive crying or screaming.

It was one of those mornings when Dutch swaggered up to him, cigar in hand, and placed his left palm on Arthur’s shoulder. It had been months since Dutch had shown any kind of affection like that, and the sentiment made Arthur pause in filling his saddlebags.

“Son, I got one final job for us...” Dutch began in a low voice, but Arthur was all out of jobs. He was done. With a sigh he turned back to his bags, but Dutch’s hand was persistent and he forced him around to listen. “Listen, Arthur. It’s one last job. One last big one and then we will have all we need to go and start fresh somewhere. We bring everyone together again, Tilly, Karen, Mary-Beth. We bring them all back and leave. There’s a train that’s going by tonight, I want you and John with me, Bill and Micah and his boys on the mission. We can do this, son, it’s so close I can taste it. I just need you to have a little more faith.”

Shoulders tense, Arthur sucked in a sharp breath. He coughed into a closed fist and was pleased to see it caused Dutch to remove his hand. He glanced around the camp and sighed, shaking his head a little.

“I ain’t sure about no more missions, Dutch... it ain’t safe no more. Them Pinkertons are so damn close I can feel ‘em breathin’ down my neck. I don’t wanna see anymore death.” Returning to packing his saddlebag, Arthur heard Dutch give an irritated sigh from just over his shoulder.

“Ain’t nobody gonna-” Dutch cut himself off, and Arthur coughed up more blood into his closed fist. He had a stain on the side of his jeans were he’d been wiping himself clean. “This is a tough time... and you ain’t, you ain’t doin’ too well, but... we.. our community... we will _survive_. They will not crush us.”

“I hope so..” Arthur wheezed, shifting on his feet. He could feel his resolve breaking, the way Dutch always knew how. A rouse just to get him in on another job. “But... if we let Jack and Abigail free... well then maybe we can-”

“There ain’t no freedom for no one in this country no more, Arthur.” Dutch’s voice was stern, and Arthur shut his mouth. There was no arguing with this man, there was no convincing him otherwise. “One more big score, we got enough money to leave. All this turmoil has the army and the Pinkertons spinning. We take a boat and slip away...”

“I don’t know what you’re saying, Dutch, but it seems like I’ve heard it all before!”

“Just one more train-”

“ **There’s always a goddamn train!** ” Arthur snapped, talking over Dutch. He’d had enough, it was boiling up inside him along with the fever that was sure to kill him.

“Arthur!” Dutch implored him, “This is different. We know this is full of cash. Army payroll. Money and supplies to repair the bridge that you blew. This is all going to plan! We rob Uncle Sam, and we leave. The poetry of it all.” Dutch laughed, an honest to goodness laugh that made Arthur wonder if he genuinely thought this was a good idea. “What do you think...?”

“It sounds wonderful,” Arthur said, sarcastically. “Hell, I ain’t got much to lose but... You gotta do what’s right and cut some loose. John and his family... Riley... I’m afraid I have to _insist_ , I mean we gotta let ‘em go. ‘Cause if the Pinkertons come through again... _They will kill everyone_.”

Dutch took a moment, looking at Arthur for a full ten seconds as if he’d lost his damn mind.

“John? _Insist_?” He nearly spat the word, a look of disbelief on his face.

“Yeah.” Arthur said, shuffling his feet again, unsure of the atmosphere that was surrounding them both. “Insist.”

“’Course, Pal. Whatever you think is best.” Dutch finally said after a cold few seconds. It felt like a showdown, like a wolf displaying its dominance over a disobedient pup. There was something off in Dutch’s voice that made Arthur’s skin crawl, and he knew deep inside that this conversation had broken something inside of their relationship. “I will... see to it. Hm? Now... we gonna rob a train?”

Begrudgingly, Arthur took one last look at the camp and his family, before locking eyes with the man he once considered to be his father.

“Sure.”


	34. Lion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Down of the water  
> Beads drippin' down your face  
> Calling out, calling out my name  
> You were December  
> Eyes cold, freeze my blood  
> Somehow, somehow not enough
> 
> Lion - Saint Mesa

There’s something to say about a woman’s resilience when it comes to stubbornly refusing to accept something. In this instance, Riley refused to accept that Arthur was dying. After their long and draining conversation in the cave, Riley had set herself one simple goal. Keep Arthur safe.

Well, it had seemed simple at the time.

Safety for Arthur meant keeping him healthy and fed. Every morning she sat with a glass of water waiting for him to cough himself awake. She’d lie in bed with him when he shook from the chills and left the bed when he burnt to the touch from fever. In the day times, when he was insisting upon settling his own affairs alone, Riley would travel. She damn near travelled the entirety of the map she had just looking and hoping and praying for something to change. Riley stopped in Strawberry, Van Horne, Annesburg, and Saint Denis, all with the hopes of finding some doctor, some person who knew medicines, something that would help Arthur through this pain.

Nothing.

She found medicines for coughs and sneezes, but when she asked about tuberculosis she was met with the exact same response every time.

There is no cure.

Today was no different. She’d managed to track down the doctor who travelled from town to town selling medicines and books. She’d heard that he was from out of state, a man of brains and of practice. The exact man she’d needed to speak to. But it had all been for nothing.

The doctor was excited to see her and her coin purse when she arrived at his camp. She’d explained the situation, the symptoms, the pain that she knew Arthur was in but would never admit to. She explained it all to this stranger who gave her a swig of whiskey and some bread while she spoke. He was kind when he told her there was nothing they could do. He was smart when he explained that medicine wasn’t advanced enough to beat this sort of illness. He was sympathetic when he gave her a small book on how to manage symptoms associated with TB.

That small book told her how to ease pain, soothe coughs, and what foods were good for a torn-up stomach. Nothing on how to get him better. Nothing but easing.

When she rode back into camp she was greeted by something horrible. She knew that everyone was gone aside from Jack and Abigail, but when she returned there was nobody there.

The fire was kicked out, the camp was raided, and belongings were either smashed or scattered. Leaping off her horse, gun at hand, Riley began to prowl around the campsite. There was someone still here, she knew it. She could hear him. Slowly she paced around the outskirts of the camp, until she saw movement from behind one of the rotten old logs on the ground. It was far too small to be a man, far too small to be a woman, so that meant-

“Jack!” Riley whispered, loud enough for him to hear her. His grubby face popped up from behind the log, tear and mud-stained. How long had he been hiding like this? The boy was quick to his feet to run toward her, launching himself into her arms like she was the only lifeline he had left.

“They took Momma!” He wailed, letting loose all the fear and horror he’d been withholding for the sake of hiding. “Them men with the suits came an’ took her! Momma told me t’run an’ I did but they took her on a horse away from me!”

Riley sheathed her gun and pet Jack’s hair, soothing him, while checking him over for injury. He seemed okay, aside from being shaken to the core. He must have seen something terrible.

“Alright, Sweetpea, we’re gonna go find everyone okay. We’re gonna go get your Pa and Arthur and we’re gonna find her. I promise.” She said this as she held his little face in her hands, promising him that they would find Abigail no matter what. He seemed to believe her, or at least enough to stop sobbing and go with Riley back to her horse.

Trigger was stamping both front hooves, anxious to leave, so Riley pet her flank to calm her a little. She hefted Jack up in front of her and braced her arms around him, holding onto the reigns and doing her best to seem confident in front of the kid. He didn’t need to know how terrified she was.

They rode for about five minutes out of camp when Riley heard hooves. She stopped her horse just off the side of the road, cautious in case of Pinkertons or law, and waited. There were men, lots of them, with guns and bags and cowboy hats- It was the gang.

“Hey! They took Abigail!” Riley yelled, charging forward to meet them. “They came and took Abigail! I got Jack, he was hidin' but they took Abigail!”

“Who did?!” Arthur was the first to shout, urging his horse forward, a near frantic look on his face whereas Dutch seemed... calm. Unbothered by this terrible news.

“Agent Milton and his men!” Riley said, having finally gotten a location out of Jack a few minutes before. “Took her to Van Horne to be put on a boat and tried for murder. That’s what Jack said.”

The boy was trembling in her grip, so she did the only thing she could do and wind one of her arms around his middle to hold him tightly to her chest. Her voice had faltered when she spoke, she’d betrayed her own fear.

“I am sorry to hear that.” Dutch said, almost diplomatically. Riley was about to say something when that snake of a man Micah spoke up.

“We gotta let her go.” He said, smoothly, as if talking about a pet dog. “John’s uh... well... Sorry, son.”

Ice cold water replaced her blood in her veins. Shock ran through her heart and wracked her body like she’d been hit by a train. Jack didn’t seem to understand, and she was so damn thankful for that because if he’d upset this boy anymore she may well have jumped off her horse and beat the man to death there and then. “Without John, she’s just bait. We got a bunch of money, Dutch. She’s just a girl, they won’t do nothin’ to her. But, me an’ the boys know we need to keep riding on this one, Dutch. You know it, every man here knows it.”

Arthur, it seemed, had the same thought process as Riley. He was seething, having seen the genuine contemplation on Dutch’s face for Micah’s proposal.

“So we just gonna let the boy be made an orphan?” He all but growled, and Riley took it upon herself to cover one of Jack’s ears with her hand, his other close to her chest. He didn’t deserve to hear this.

“It- it ain’t like that!” Dutch protested.

“What is it like?!” Arthur yelled.

“I wanna live, cowpoke! I still got the choice. Dutch... it’s just a girl.” Micah was creeping again, sneaking his way into Dutch’s broken mind and planting ideas and thoughts that didn’t belong there. Riley shifted in her saddle, about to dismount when Dutch spoke.

“You’re right.”

“Dutch-” Arthur dismounted, anger in his shoulders, prepared to beg if he had to. Riley knew, she was feeling exactly the same.

“Micah... it pains me to say it Arthur, but he is right.” Dutch said, resolute in his answer.

“Dutch!” Arthur pleaded, prepared to say more but Dutch cut him off.

“Come on, boys.” He said, before riding off without a backwards glance.

Arthur was left choking on the dust cloud they left behind. He spat at his own boots, kicked the ground, and clenched his fists together.

“Well... I guess that’s that then.” He said, and Riley felt her jaw clench. This was it, this was the final straw. “All them goddam years...”

She was resolute in her own decision, whatever Arthur was going to do, she was going to do too. She knew Jack would be his priority, and she was prepared to die for the boy if need be. Arthur was too, and he would probably do just that while trying to get Abigail back.

“Come on, Arthur.” Sadie said, sympathetically. Let’s go get her. You an’ me is all we need.”

Arthur was nodding and already moving things off his horse. Gypsy whinnied, and Arthur lay a gentle pat on her nose as he took a huge sack from the horse’s back.

“Riley... Take this, and this money too. Take Jack. And you wait at Copperhead Landing for Abigail and Mrs. Adler.” Riley nodded, not quite connecting the dots on the plan just yet. She took the money and tucked it in Jack’s shirt, the best place to keep it in case they were jumped. Nobody searches a child, especially one as filthy as he was.

“And you?” Riley asked, reaching out with her free hand and dropping the reigns. Arthur took her hand and kissed the back of it, before gently replacing the reigns in her palm.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, darlin’, I’ll be alright. You’re a good girl, you’ll do fine. I have faith in you. I trust you to look after this boy. I trust you to keep him safe till we get his mother back.” Arthur said, and Riley’s muddled mind was trying to decide if this was goodbye for now or goodbye forever. Whatever the case, she clenched her jaw and fought back those burning tears.

“Jack, come here...” Arthur spoke softly, so softly to such a poor child. “Be brave, son, I’m gonna go get your momma.”

And before Riley knew it they were gone. She was riding like the wind, frenzied and upset, angry with the world and with Dutch and most of all with Micah. But she held strong, just as strong as she needed to be for Jack. Her arm stayed tight across his middle, keeping him in place as his tiny hands gripped the saddle. Her entire body was shaking when she made it to Copperhead Landing. She hitched Trigger to a tree and sat Jack down on a rock while she grabbed some water from the creek. She helped him clean up his face with a wet rag, and fed him the last of her rations from her saddlebags. He had a little more colour in his cheeks now, he must have taken Arthur’s promise to heart. He always did trust his uncle.

Riley sat down with the boy behind a large hill to keep cover from the road. She could see if people were approaching, but they couldn’t see them. It was a good place to hide and wait for Sadie to return... and hopefully, with Abigail and Arthur in tow.

It was a few hours later, close to sunset, when the sound of hooves caught Riley’s attention. It was a brown horse with two riders approaching, slowing down as they followed hoof tracks in the dirt. Riley stood up when she saw two familiar faces and whistled them over to their hiding spot.

“Jack!”

“Momma!”

The reunion was sweet and Riley felt relief like no other she’d felt before. It was shortlived, however, as she finally noticed that there was no third rider. No Arthur. Turning to Sadie, with blind panic in her eyes, the other woman held up her hands.

“He’s fine! He’s fine. He said he had’t go have a chat with Dutch...” Those words were hardly out of her mouth and Riley was turning to Trigger, untying her from the tree. Sadie was on her like a fly on horse shit the second she saw what she was doing. “Wait! He asked us to tell you not to follow him!” She said, urgently. Riley wasn’t listening, but when Sadie refused to let her arm go she spun around with wild eyes.

“DON’T tell me where I can and can’t go.” She all but growled, damn near feral with the terrifying energy she was feeling. Sadie backed up, her hands up again in a surrender. She knew she couldn’t stop her.

Riley’s shoulders eased a little and she rubbed at the burning tears in the corners of her eyes.

“I love him.” She said with a shrug, tears freely falling down her cheeks as if that were all the expatiation they’d need. It seemed good enough for Sadie.

“Abigail... There’s money in Jack’s shirt and you take this sack here. You take it all and you both run for the hills with this boy. Keep him safe. And Jack? I love you, kiddo. You look after your momma, you hear me? You look after her.” Riley was shifting things off her horse, the saddlebags and the sack Arthur gave her, everything that might slow her down as she raced back to Beavers Hollow. She dumped it all and mounted up, and with one last look at her friends- no, her family, Riley kicked her horse into action and rode off as fast as she could back down the road.

There was one thing in Riley’s mind as she rode like the devil down dusty roads and beaten paths.

Find Arthur, and get the hell out of there.


	35. Fire

_Everything is a disaster._

_Mrs Grimshaw is dead, John is alive. Dutch has betrayed my entire family. I have to get John back to his family. I have to get him home._

After the escape through the cave, while the Pinkertons and Dutch were distracted, Arthur and John rode like the god damn wind. They were sloppy, taking risks, tripping and stumbling over roots and rocks as they rushed to mount the horses. Arthur thanked the Lord for having the blessing of a horse that listened to a whistle.

Panting and coughing, while they mounted up, Arthur stuttered out an assurance.

“Abigail... Abigail and Jack, they’re safe...” He wheezed, spitting blood onto the floor.

“Where are they?” John asked, and Arthur couldn’t help but see that fearful boy he’d first met all those years ago. Scared, and looking for the comfort of a big brother.

“They’re with Sadie an' Riley at Copperhead Landin'.” Both of them took a moment to catch their breaths, then John reached over from his horse and took Arthur’s hand. He squeezed it firmly, holding it tightly.

“Thank you... Brother.” John said relevantly, and Arthur nodded. That’s what they were after all. Brothers in arms, in blood, in sacrifice. They were bound together now and forever by their experiences in this life and the next.

As John moved to take his hand back and ride away, Arthur held tight. He made sure to keep John’s attention, and spoke slowly and clearly.

“I want you to not look back... like I said.” Run, and don’t look back, don’t come find me, don’t come back for me. This is it.

Words left unsaid as they rode off together, racing away from the spray of bullets as Dutch and Micah began to catch up with them. They rode and dodged bullets, racing to lose the tails while dodging death at every turn. The Pinkertons blocked the roads so they rode through the woods, dodging trees and trusting their horses in the darkness. And then the worst happened.

Arthur felt the world turn upside down as he was suddenly on the ground, dirt and rocks scuffing up his skin and opening wounds. He sat up off the ground and turned, shooting the men that had shot his horse down. She lay on the ground, whimpering as she took her final few breaths. 

“Ahhh, _fuck_!” Arthur yelled, dropping to his knees to cradled Gypsy’s head in his hands.

John was beside him as Arthur stroked her nose, urging him to run.

“Gimme a sec...” He said, voice breaking slightly, eyes burning. She was a damn good horse...

“Come on! Push Arthur!” John was yelling, but Arthur was still stroking his dear companion's nose. She stuttered one final breath, and was gone. She went quickly, at least. He hoped his death would be as swift.

“Yeah... Well. _Thank you_.” He whispered to her, just as John caught him by the jacket and hauled him up with strength he’d never seen Marston posses before.

“Come on, Arthur. Let’s go!” He said, set to run across the damn country if it meant escaping. Arthur, tired of the run, wheezing and coughing, took off his hat and gestured back to where Beavers Hollow was.

“Well what about the _money_?” He asked, “Abigail gave me the key.”

“I head down there I’m dead in five minutes! I got a family, that’s more important.” John shot back, urgency in his posture. “You want the money, you head down! I’m going to my _family_.”

Arthur took a moment to take in how much John had grown. From a child to a boy, from a boy to a man, and from a man to a father. Finally, he got it. Finally, he understood where his place was in the world. Arthur cracked a small smile and placed his hat back on his head, striding over to John to clasp his shoulder.

“I’m comin’ with you.” He said, determined to get his brother to safety. “I’m gonna get you out of this **bullshit** if it’s the last god damn thing I do!”

And then they were running again, running uphill against the odds to find freedom in this hell hole of a woodland. Dutch and Micah were gone now, they were circling back for the money most likely, and the Pinkertons would follow both parties until they caught their bad guys. John shouted something about needing higher ground so they climbed and ran and climbed some more, until bullets flew like birds through the sky. Arthur caught a stray bullet to his jacket, luckily nothing but a tear in the fabric, and crouched low as they scaled the damn cliff to find a rock to hide behind.

Together they shot at the Pinkertons, used all their ammo to try and take out the small army that was descending upon them. This was it. Do or die. No way out, no compromise, no plan.

They ran again, tripping over rocks until Arthur doubled over with the pain of the fight. He was out of breath, wheezing, coughing up more blood than he’d ever seen come from one mans mouth. It was his body telling him to stop, that this was far enough.

“Come on Arthur, let’s go! Keep pushing!” John yelled, coming back for him, one hand uselessly holding onto the bullet wound in his shoulder.

“You go...” Arthur spluttered, but John was already by his side trying to help him push on. Arthur shook off his hand, and stood straight, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth and coming back scarlet.

“No... No. I think I’ve pushed all I can.” He admitted, stumbling slightly with lightheadedness.

“ _Come on._..” John begged, shambling closer, close to exhaustion himself.

“You go.” Arthur said, certain of his decision.

“We ain’t got time for this, not now.” John rasped, pleading with Arthur with his eyes. He couldn’t lose his brother, not like this. But this was the only thing Arthur could do now to save John’s life.

Arthur took off his hat, wiped the sweat from his brow, and looked John dead in the eye.

“We ain’t both gonna make it...” He admitted, shaking his head slightly. “ _Go_. Now. I’ll hold them off.”

Reluctant, John didn’t move. His jaw was tight and he had eyes over Arthur’s shoulders, refusing to make eye contact. So Arthur fitted his own hat on John’s head, shoving it down for good measure, and forced his eyes to meet his. Arthur shook his shoulder gently, and he finally got to see the look of fear and sadness in his brother’s eyes.

“It would mean a lot to me... _Please_.” Slowly Arthur removed his bandolier and satchel, throwing them both over John’s shoulders. He wouldn’t have any use for them now, not all these weapons. Not his journal. Maybe John would carry it on for him. Maybe John would find a use for the things he’d collected over the years. “There ain’t no more time for talk. Go.”

As he was walking away, John paused, called out his name and began to talk.

“Go to your family! Arthur growled, waving him off as he reloaded his pistol. “Get the hell out of here and be a goddamn man!”

“You’re my _brother_!” John pleaded, and Arthur turned from where he was about to try for higher ground. He sighed, and nodded.

“I _know_. I know...”

And then he ran, shooting behind him to cause a scene while John slipped away into the night to find his family. Bullets rained down like the storm that was brewing overhead, and Arthur did his best to shoot down as many men as possible. One man down meant one less threat to his family, one less worry for his fiance, his brother, and their kid.

It was a sudden tackle from behind that took Arthur off guard. He was on the ground before he knew it, grappling to turn around, and when he did he was faced with the worst sight he could have asked for. Micah.

“I gotcha now, Black lung!” He screamed, raining down punches on Arthur.

“ **YOU RAT**! YOU GOD DAMN RAT!” Arthur barked right back, throwing his all into pushing Micah off.

“I’m a-” **Punch**. “Survivor, Black lung!” **Punch.** “A Survivor!” Micah got some good hits in, definitely breaking his nose in the process. “That’s all there is! Livin’, and dyin’!”

Arthur forced Micah to roll, and together they both fell off the side of the cliff and onto the ledge below. Injured and exhausted, both men took a moment to catch their breaths before rolling back onto their feet to continue the fight. There was no way both of them would walk away from this. There was no talking or planning your way out. This was it. One of them was going to die.

Arthur swore to himself that if he was the one dying, he was _damn well_ taking Micah with him.


	36. Throne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You called me a friend  
> Now broken bones  
> Will stay on the mend  
> Or decompose  
> Believe, you and me  
> It's more than drums  
> I'll burn your ship alive  
> I'm coming home
> 
> Throne - Saint Mesa

As Riley and Trigger tore through the trees, her heartbeat echoed in her ears. The anxious twisting in her stomach became too much, but there was no time to stop and pay it attention. There was no time to freak the fuck out like she so desperately wanted. There was only riding, and finding Arthur before it was too late.

She weaved through the trees like a professional, taking corners and twists and turns as if she’d done it all her life. She had such a good horse to thank for that, a horse she was determined to reward for the rest of her days. Distracting thoughts entered her head, some good but mostly bad.

Arthur’s going to die. We could escape. We could have a farm. I’m not going to get there in time. The Pinkertons already have him. Dutch got him. Micah got him. We could have had a farm. We could have escaped. We could have had it all.

What felt like hours of riding had only been minutes by the time she found him. Up on the cliffside, two men brawled like animals. She screamed when she saw them fall off the side onto the ledge below and took off running on foot to race up the hills and cliffs to reach him. She shed her jacket, too heavy to continue wearing, and threw her bandolier off along with it. She still had her pistol in hand, her favourite one, the one that saw her through all this bullshit and kept her alive. She reloaded and cocked her gun, preparing to burst in and fire at anything that dared lay a finger on her partner.

Riley turned the corner and stopped, crouched behind a rock, and listened. The fighting had stopped, and she peered around the corner to see Arthur crawling towards his dropped gun. Micah, taunting him like the rat he was.

“Ohhh, Black Lung... you ain’t gonna reach that gun! You ain’t! You lost, my sick friend You lost!” His taunts made her stomach twist, and as she was about to step out with her own pistol raised, ready to take on the son of a bitch, she heard another voice.

It was Arthur, wheezing his retort, desperate to get the last word in and buy himself more time.

“In the end, Micah... despite my best efforts to the contrary... it turns out I’ve won.” Arthur was still moving, but something made Riley freeze. She couldn’t move for looking at him, and when he reached that gun and made one last desperate grab for it a boot came down on his fingers.

“It is over, now,” Dutch said, standing over Arthur like one of the four horsemen of the Apocolypse.

“Oh, Dutch... he’s a rat.” Arthur wheezed, rasping through swollen lips and bloody injuries. “You know it, and I know it.”

“He’s _sick_... he’s _dyin_ ’... he’s talkin’ _crazy_!” Micah snapped back, trying to defend himself but even Dutch must know by now... he must know.

Suddenly more voices, Pinkertons sounding off having found their location. They were coming, closing in, and Riley had a decision to make.

“I gave you _all_ I had. I did.” Arthur whispered, turning to lie on his side. And all Dutch could do was stutter and back away like a scared fool.

It burned her blood to hear Micah practically begging for Dutch to leave with him. She snapped, and with a scream of pure fury she span from behind the rock with her gun pointed high. Pointed directly at Dutch.

“ _YOU_ did this!” She screamed, angrier than she’d ever been in her entire life. Angrier than when she watched her family die before her very eyes. The fury, the injustice, the rage overcame the fear and sorrow. “YOU let this rat into our family, YOU were their downfall! YOU killed them all!”

Finger on the trigger, Riley could see Arthur trying to sit up, wheezing her name, coughing up blood. She sniffed, realising she was crying, and angrily wiped the tears away.

“Why’d you trust that _snake_ of a man over your own **son**?” She asked, voice breaking, pleading, begging for an answer. Something to make this all make sense.

“I...” Dutch stuttered again, shocked, both hands up. “I didn’t...”

“Yeah, Dutch. You didn’t. You didn’t do _shit_. Arthur did. Now I get the _pleasure_ of shootin’ you in-”

The gunshot rang out before she pulled the trigger, and then a second time. The first shot hit her in the ribs, and the second in the stomach. She hardly felt the pain as she dropped to her knees, gun slipping from her fingers as the world turned upside down.

She could hear Micah shouting in frustration, and she could see Dutch walking off in the opposite direction. Her eyes searched blurrily and she found him on the ground. Arthur was standing up, and shambling toward her like a man half dead. Whether he got to her she didn't know, the alluring blackness of sleep was washing over her. Maybe he was on his knees beside her, stroking a soothing hand through her hair and telling her all the things they'll do when they get away safely. Maybe it's all a dream. 

Her eyes shut for a moment and a blissful second of peace washed over her. At least she got to see his eyes one last time. That’s all that mattered. 

Those ocean eyes.


	37. Unshaken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May I stand unshaken   
> Amid, amidst a crashing world   
> May I stand unshaken  
> Amid, amidst a crashing world
> 
> Unshaken - D'Angelo

She dropped like she’d fallen from the sky, lighter than air and slowly sinking to the ground. The gun fell from her hands and clattered on the rocky cliff, disappearing somewhere never to be seen again. The sound that Arthur made was animalistic. He was up on his knees without a second thought, crawling to his feet, using what little strength he had to just get over to her. Micah and Dutch were gone, both having left in different directions. The Pinkertons were chasing them now.

Falling to his knees beside her, Arthur managed to lean against the cliffside and drag her into his lap. He cradled her close, smoothed her hair back, and touched her face like she were the most precious thing in the world.

She was, to him.

The sun was rising, and the shock of it was settling in when she stirred. Her eyes blinked open, and a trickle of blood spluttered from her lips. Arthur wiped it away with his thumb, and smiled gently. Pale skin and dark hair, she always did look like an angel. 

“Hey, Darlin’...” He whispered, and though he could see the pain she was in he watched as she struggled through a matching smile. It hurt his soul to know what was coming but... maybe it wouldn't be so scary to die if he had her by his side. Maybe this was better. 

“Hey there, Sweetheart...” She said right back, her hand reaching up to try and cup his cheek. It fell before she could touch him, so he held her hand up to his scruffy cheek for her. She smiled again, even as the tears blinded them both. She stroked his cheek with trembling fingers, her eyes locked onto his like they were taking in the most beautiful of sights.

“It’s gonna be alright...” Arthur whispered through a bloodied mouth. He didn’t have the energy to clean it off anymore. “The suns comin’ up, Darlin’... I ain’t gonna leave ya. I ain’t never gonna leave ya.” He whispered soft things like this over and over, his own fingers shaking as they tangle themselves in her hair. Her hand slips from his face and he holds it tightly, sucking in wheezing and shaky breaths as the strength began to leave his body. "You're alright, girl... You're alright. I gotcha... I gotcha..." 

Arthur's voice faded as he struggled for breath, and his eyes closed for a brief moment as he tried to focus his mind on the woman in his arms. Dying felt like flying. But it also felt like being hit by a damn train. It felt like you're being pulled away from something too early, like you had so much more to do and so much more to see. Dying with Riley felt like the biggest relief he could ever have hoped for. He'd planned to go it alone, find somewhere safe to struggle the illness out, somewhere dry. To take it as far away from her as possible but... maybe this is better. And maybe that's selfish of him to think. Maybe he deserved to be a little selfish right now. 

“Arthur…?”

“M’still here, Darlin’.”

“Promise me somethin’?”

“Anythin’.”

“You’ll introduce me to Isaac when we see each other again?”

“…Sure. Sure I will.”

Arthur held her as her eyes closed and her body went limp in his arms. He pressed one gentle kiss to her forehead and let himself relax, holding her close and breathing in his last few breaths. The sun was rising so prettily over the mountains, casting everything around them in a glowing golden hue. It was gorgeous, but there was no way in hell he was taking his eyes off her. He was going to savour the last few moments. The way the tears tracked down her cheeks and joined the little stream of blood from her lips. The way her nose curved up, and her lips parted. Arthur remembered the day he met her, the way he met her, the laughs they had until they were no longer laughing but loving. That feeling of being wanted, needed, that craving for affection and attention. The obsessive need to become a better man for the sake of a loved one. She'd done that to him. She'd changed an old fool into a lovesick fool. 

No. 

No longer a fool. A brave man that managed to save his family, and died in the arms of the woman he loved. A brave fool of a man that took too long to know the touch of a kind hand. 

His eyes closed and his mind slipped. Pain fades away and so does everything else.

Across the morning fields, a buck stands to attention, framed in the golden light of morning as he watches for predators. Ever the protector, ever the saviour.

When the light finally bathes Arthur and Riley in a warm glow, the warmth is no longer needed. 


	38. Cough Syrup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If I could find a way to see this straight, I'd run away  
> To some fortune that I, I should have found by now  
> I'm waiting for this cough syrup to come down, come down
> 
> Cough Syrup - Young the Giant

It’s a Sunday afternoon when a boy of 17 takes a trip to the mountains with his father. They ride on horses, one smaller than the other, in relative silence as old memories creep up on them. Jack didn’t really remember much from when he was a kid, but he remembered Arthur and Riley. They were family, and family was important. So much so that his mother and father made sure to regale him with tales and stories that sounded so outlandish he sometimes didn’t think they were true. But he learned about his uncle and his partner. He learned about their mistakes and their successes, the way they loved and laughed and fought. He learned that, even against all odds, there’s still daylight to look forward to.

The horses started to tire halfway up the mountain, so Jack and John tied them up and continued the walk on foot. Tired and hungry, Jack followed close behind his father until they reached the plateaux of the cliff. It was flat, and there was some greenery that allowed for flowers to grow. The gravesite was beautifully wild. Vines twisted around the wooden cross with their initials carved into the wood. Wildflowers popped up from the earth, and nearby birds sang songs. It was a peaceful place, at least.

Jack had been worried it would dredge up some bad memories for his father but... John seemed at peace. He was weathered, older now than he was back then, but at peace. Arthur had done that. He’d saved their lives. Him and his partner in life and crime.

Without saying a word, John pulled a bottle of whiskey from the saddlebag of his horse and sat down beside the gravesite. He popped the cork and took a swig, before gesturing for Jack to join him.

“I wanted to give you somethin’.” John said, as Jack took a small sip and winced at the burn. From his satchel, the very same one Arthur gave him all those years ago, John pulled a leather-bound journal. It was worn and torn, smudged with pencil and ink, but still in very good condition. Jack took the book and thumbed through it slowly, taking in the slow scrawl of his uncles and his father's handwriting.

“That was Arthur’s. I ain’t as good at the writin’ an’ drawin’ as he was... so I kept it for you till you was old enough. I thought you might wanna tell his story one day, in one of those books you wanna write.” John took the bottle of whiskey back as Jack turned each page carefully, lightly tracing his fingers over some of the pictures Arthur had drawn.

“...Thanks, pa.” Jack said softly, before laying his hand on top of the journal. “I’ll do my best.”

They sat in silence for about an hour, John drinking and Jack reading. When the sun was starting to set and the birds had stopped singing, John called it a day. He told Jack to grab their things and start heading down the mountain. Doing as he was told, Jack began to make his way down when he paused to look behind himself. He smiled when he saw his father kneeling beside the grave, speaking softly to the two people he owed his life too. Jack watched as he uncorked the bottle one more time and poured a little out next to the cross. A toast to lost friends.

A drink for the fallen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, what a journey... I'm so thankful for all the love and support this fic has brought. You guys are awesome and I'm so so glad you liked my story. I know it wasn't a happy ending but... life isn't about happy endings. It's about living life to the fullest. I think Riley and Arthur managed to do at least that. 
> 
> Thank you for your patience. Thank you for taking the time to read from start to end. Remember, with the darkness comes the light.


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